


Alternative Paths

by Tracker_Lucifer



Series: Alternative Paths [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Meetings, First Time, Kinda an origin story, M/M, This is a Bane/Blake story, alternative route to nolan film, slow burn if this extends to a series, very plotty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 73,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tracker_Lucifer/pseuds/Tracker_Lucifer
Summary: What if Blake didn't follow Foley's orders to go after the Batman? What if he chose to go after the robbers? It can't be that bad, can it? After all, it was just a couple of thugs who held the stock market hostage. They weren't the Batman with the fancy toys and weapons. Blake could handle it, couldn't he?I mean, what could possibly go wrong?





	1. Rough Beginnings

Police sirens wailed as the radio crackled to life with reports of the robbers and sightings of the Batman. All of it was just white noise to Blake as he gripped the wheel tightly. His jaws twitched as he glanced at his passenger. There was no hiding the giddiness on the deputy commissioner’s face. The mere sight of it stoked a familiar, deep-seated anger within him.

“What about the robbers? They’ll getaway.” He stated as he weaved through the traffic. His eyes focussed ahead of them. His brows furrowed when he noticed two of the bikers seemed close to one another. _Are they talking to each other?_

“Who do you want to get?” Foley’s voice cut through Blake’s buzzing mind. “A couple of robbers or the man who killed Harvey Dent!”

Dark eyes flickered toward the passenger. The officer had to clench his teeth to barred the words from spilling out. Instead, he tore his gaze away from him and back to the scene in front of them. It was just in time to see one of the biker--the one in the red helmet--made an illegal U-turn in the middle of the oncoming traffic before heading straight them.

 _Don’t do it. Don’t do it, his logical mind practically pleaded. You can’t fuck this up._ You need this job.

 _But is this job worth it if it means letting the real bad guys get away?_ Another voice reasoned.

The red biker blew past them and before Foley could act, Blake turned the wheel hard left. The brakes screamed, horns blared and tires streaked the asphalt with its black rubber as the car veered a sharp U-turn before gunning it after the red biker.

“What are you doing!?” Foley shouted into his ear. “Turn the car around! Turn the damn car around, that’s an order!”

“I can’t follow that order, sir.” Blake replied, amazed by how even his voice sounded despite wanting to shout at superior. “I can’t simply allow a robber--who participated in an active heist--to get away.” He shot him a sidelong look. “Besides, I’m pretty sure half of the precinct is chasing the Batman now.”

“I will have your badge if you don’t turn this vehicle around.” Foley threatened.

Blake took a deep breath and pressed down on the gas pedal. “You can have it after I get this guy.” He said as he exited the busy freeway, determined not to lose the biker.

The Red Biker glanced over at him and revved his engine before he peeled down the side streets. Whoever the hell this guy was, he knew the area. Luckily, so did he. The two vehicles danced over the streets, making illegal turns and stops and barely avoided an accident or three. The distance between them wasn’t closing but Blake kept at it like a dog on a bone.

 _You are mine,_ he grinned to himself till his eyes widened in recognition as they passed by the chain-link fence. This was not some deserted lot but Gotham’s Water and Sewers Facility.

_He is going back to the sewers._

Adrenaline spiked inside of him as he started to feel the seconds tick. He needed to find this guy before he reach the tunnels.

“Shit…” He ground his teeth and parked the car outside the main entrance to the facility. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his flashlight.

“You are insane, officer.” Foley snarled. The deputy commissioner's face was red as a ripe tomato and was practically spitting fire.

“Just performing my duty sir.” Blake climbed out of the vehicle. “If you want, then you could go ahead and join the others.” Without waiting, he made a beeline for the facility’s office. Behind him, he heard the older man curse followed by the sound of a car’s door being opened. It took a lot of effort to keep his smirk in check as the Deputy Commissioner joined him.

“Once this is over, you will surrender your badge.” Foley sneered.

“I’ll make sure to wrap it up in a nice bow for you.” Blake drawled, disregarding his professionalism. He was already going to lose his job. No point of continuing this song and dance.

He climbed the steps and approached the entrance. The door was slightly ajar. He glanced at Foley before he pushed it open and shined his light inside.

Slowly, he stepped inside the lobby. It was empty and untouched save for the door to right that didn’t quite close. Blake took the lead, stepping ahead of the Deputy Commissioner and opened the door. Greeting them was an orchestra of machinery and water. The room was vast with pipes running along in every direction imaginable connected to vats and other machinery that filled the center space.

“Take the left and I’ll take the right.” The deputy commissioner gesticulated as if he needed to emphasize.

Blake nodded and the two officers split off to their designated section. Their steps masked by mechanical noise all around them but could not silent the ticking in Blake’s head. It took effort to squash the urge to run. What he was already doing was reckless. Last thing he wanted was to continue the police-in-a-horror-movie-trope and die stupidly.

Or at least that was his intention till a sharp clink drew his attention. He brought the flashlight up as he came around one of the whirring machines to see the dark entranceway to the sewers.

 _Fuck me…_ he thought as kept the light up and pull his gun from his holster. He trekked passed the threshold and down into the tunnel. As he drew deeper, the smell of damp sewage and human waste washed curled in his nostrils and made him gag.

“Get it together.” He grumbled to himself as he moved the light from one direction to the other.

The tunnels itself wasn’t bathed in absolute darkness. There were strings of light along the sides of the main pathways but the spacing and some dead bulbs left pockets for the shadows to harbor. The area was less noisy than the facility room but not by much. He could hear the sound of moving water, the skittering of rats and very faintly was the echo of the subway.

 _You should turn around and head back,_ his mind suggested but his instinct was telling him that he was on the right path. Which path that was...well...

Blake stopped at a threshold to see the four other entrances split from it. All of them led to different parts of the sewers and god knew how many more paths branched from those.

“Fuck…” he stepped into the center space. His shoes splashed in the shallow pools of water and questionable substances. He flashed his light from one identical entrance to the other. Nothing hinted where the Red Biker went or that he was even down there. “Where the hell are you…” He muttered.

“Right here.” A metallic voice hissed right next to his ear.

Blake barely had time to move when he felt a punch slammed hard into his gut. Black spots dotted his vision as he bounced against the damp cement wall like a thrown doll. His gun and flashlight clattered onto the ground and out of reach. He climbed to his hands and knees and peered upward before quickly rolling away before a heavy boot could meet his spine. He clambered to his feet, holding his stomach as the pain ebbed inside of him.

Through his speckled vision, a large man towered over him. The lighting behind his assailant masked his features but Blake knew who this man was. He heard of him through the whispers and rumors from the inmates in Blackgate and the kids from the orphanage. The massive mercenary that lurked in the sewers like a shadow, who could kill a man with his bare hands and instill fear in even the most hardened psychopaths in Arkham: Bane.

“It was unwise for you to follow me, Officer.” The monster spoke with a metallic voice that sounded cold but intelligent. He circled him with steps so quiet that it was unnerving. A man that size should not be able to be so light-footed.

“I’ve been told that I could be reckless.” Blake spoke, his eyes remained trained on the other. He flexed his fingers at his sides and offered a half-ass smile. “I’ve also been told that I was never the brightest bulb in the box.” To prove that, Blake lunged at Bane with his fist and to his surprise, he hit his target.

Pain bolted up his arm like an electrical current and struck every nerve fiber along the way. It felt like he just punched a brick wall. Only this wall was just soft enough for him to avoid breaking every bone in his hand.

“Fuck…!” He hissed then he ducked away from Bane’s meaty fist. He scrambled back, trying to gain some grounds but Bane wasn’t relenting. He even tried to enter one of the several connecting tunnels only for Bane to stand in his way. There was no room to run or to gain speed, leaving Blake with very little choice other than to meet the beast head-on.

He charged at Bane and struck. His fist connected with the man’s chest and stomach before he had to jump back to avoid the counter and being cornered. He rounded the giant and got a few more hits in before bringing his arms up in time to block Bane’s right hook. The sheer force of his made his bones rattle inside of him like a toy.

“Fuck,” he cursed then dodged the following shot that nearly clip the side of his head. With half a breath, he was on Bane again.

Honestly, the police training did little to help him in this fight. Instead, it was all those years of school fights and scuffles in foster homes that allowed him to last as long as he had but he still had his limits. All of his punches met their mark but none of it did a damn thing to Bane. But when Bane returned his blows, (blocked or not) it left a shockwave of crippling pain.

“You are courageous, Officer.” Bane remarked as he effortless batted away Blake’s punch as if it was just an annoying fly. “Admirable even.” Then like a snake, his other hand shot out and snatched the officer’s throat in a vice. “But foolish nonetheless.” He hauled the officer a foot off the ground without any effort.

Blake clawed at his wrist and hand like a pissed-off cat. He spat and hissed as he felt the thin bones of his neck bend beneath the other man’s grasp. His eyes flashed angrily and lips pulled back into a feral snarl. “Bite me.”

Bane drew the officer close and held his gaze. “You should be careful of what you say.”

“Didn’t… I told you?” Blake gasped as he felt the hand tightened around his throat. His lungs started to burn and scream for air but he ignored it. Instead, he gave the criminal a humorless smile. “I’m reckless.” With the last of his strength, he slammed his fist into the metal mask.

The thin skin over his knuckles split and the warm blood seeped between his fingers but he didn’t relent. He struck again and again and felt the small metal pieces shift against his bloodied knuckles. His hits came hard and fast, determined to hurt this man that dared to come into his city to stir shit up. He wasn’t going to win. He knew that. He was going to die down here in the shit smelling sewers but at least he will go out fighting with all he had.

Unfortunately, that was his downfall. He was so focussed to hurt Bane that he didn’t even notice that the masked man’s grip had loosened until he was suddenly hurled across the room. His back was the first to make contact with the wall, followed by his head with a resounding crack. Like a stringless marionette, Blake crumpled his knees. His head lolled back, dazed, as he peered up at the blurred shadow that towered over him. He couldn’t even utter a word before the world went out like a busted bulb.

\-----

When Blake came to, he was greeted by sterile walls, beeping machines and the muffled, angry voice of Foley, who was thankfully not in the room. Blake let out a sigh then tried to piece together his remaining brain cells in an attempt to make sense of what had happened but it left him even more confused.  


To be frank, he should’ve been six feet under for his stupidity but he wasn’t. Bane had let him live--but was it Bane that fought him? It had to be, right? That behemoth fit all the rumors--but then why did he let him go?

His head started to ache as the questions filled his cranium. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed when he noticed the lack of pain he was experiencing. That astonishment came and went when he finally noticed the IV that stuck out of his bruised arm. His brows furrowed and then followed the length of his arm to where his hand rested over the sheets. Out of morbid curiosity, he weakly lifted both his hands up to assess the damage. Bandages were wound so heavily around his knuckles that he looked like a boxer with his gloves on. His fingers twitched and ached but they bend at his will. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell. Bruised and swollen, yes, but not broken.

Hopefully, the rest of his body was in a similar state. Broken bones would take too long to recover from… and honestly, he didn’t believe they had that much time to waste. It was nothing he could truly articulate rationally. It was just a gut feeling. Bane being in Gotham was not good news and dredged up memories of the Joker’s reign of terror.

Something big was at work but what that was, Blake wasn’t sure.

He let his hands fall back to the bed and shut his eyes. The headache rolled in his skull along with the lethargic effects of the painkillers. It took more effort to open his eyes and rolled his head to the side. He looked toward the machines before noticing the tray next to his bed. On top of it was folded clean clothes, his busted flashlight, soiled gun and…His brows furrowed.

_Where’s my badge?_

\-----

Deep in the web of sewer tunnels, two men sat on wooden crates next to a crackling fire. The larger of the two exhaled deeply through the slightly damaged but working metal mask. He reached into his pocket and took the item from his pocket then held it out for the other. The Gotham PD shield shimmered a silvery glow under the light of the dancing flame before it was swallowed up in the other man’s hand.  


The slighter man--haggard in appearance as if he desperately needed to sleep--turned the badge in his hand curiously.

“I want you to find all you could regarding the man who wears this badge.” Bane requested.

His lieutenant glanced at him and nodded. “You’ll have it by sun up.” He said as he got up from the crate and headed for one of the many tunnels.

Bane watched him go before he turned his attention back to the flames, allowing his mind to reflect on their plans and what laid ahead of them.


	2. Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know what was worst; seeing the monster in action in broad daylight or the dark.

Much to Blake’s dismay, he wasn’t allowed to go back into the field. You might ask, “Why would such orders would mean anything to an unemployed man?” Well, it does matter, especially since he wasn’t unemployed. Against Foley’s vehement words, Gordon wanted him to stay. That statement caught them both off guard. Foley was gaping like a fish and Blake, on the other hand, was riding the high like a bird. It was short-lived though because it did hammer the fact that he would need to abide by the order and stay in the hospital till he was well enough for field duty. That was easier said than done, especially for someone like him. 

Staying in one place made you an easy target for bullies and drunken dads. So, he made sure that he was always on the go, keeping himself busy with something or someone. It was mostly the former, like making sure that he had enough food to sustain himself, part-time gigs, obtaining his GED, and graduating from the academy. People on the outside saw that as an example of being driven, motivated. He saw it as survival. 

It was partly his survival instinct that made his bandaged fingers tapped anxiously against the foot of the bed. His eyes glued to the small screen, searching for any valuable information regarding the heist. Unfortunately, there were only crumbs. 

Boldface letterings covered the top third of the screen with “Breaking News” as remaining two-third depicted the Billionaire’s, Bruce Wayne, walk-of-shame outside of Wayne Enterprises. The reporter spoke of the former recluse’s recent reckless gamble with the Wayne Enterprises’ stocks that nearly put Forbes’ favorite company in the red. Of course, everyone was so focussed on the spectacle and the return of the Batman that they all seemed to forget about the recent heist in Wall Street. As if such an incident wouldn’t have any effect on what was happening now… 

“Can people get any dumber?” He groused underneath his breath as the cute reporter prattled on all the misgivings and minor charges attached to Mr. Bruce Wayne. 

Blake reached over his bed--despite how much his ribs protested--grabbed the remote and flipped the channel before the reporter could continue with his cock-sucking commentaries. He flipped past the Spanish Novella, a game show, and a cooking show before his thumb stopped. His breath caught in his throat. 

Another station was recapping the news of the week and replayed old footages. The current one that filled the screen was the security cam video of the Wall Street Heist. The way the camera was situated made it hard to get a good look at the robber. Almost as if he was aware of where the camera was placed…

 _Of course, he would be aware. They probably have done some research on the building’s security._ Wall Street wasn’t a place you break into unprepared. Especially considering that this lucrative business put the extra cash for security cameras that recorded in color, installed metal detectors and had a butt load of security on stand by. From the video, there were at least four that were captured. One of them, a brunette woman, stepped in biker’s way and gestured toward his helmet. The biker complied, before letting all hell break loose. 

Memories of the sewers came rushing back like water from a busted dam. The Biker--Bane--moved hard and faster than anyone his size should be allowed. In seconds, the mercenary dismantled four security guards as if they were nothing. Every blow was deliberate and sent a ghosting pain through Blake's nerves. He didn’t know what was worst; seeing the monster in action in broad daylight or the dark. Either way, he was terrifying and somehow Blake managed to survive _that_. 

“Are you torturing yourself for not nabbing the lunatic?” A gravelly voice inquired, startling Blake from his thoughts.

He gasped quietly and turned around to see Gordon at his doorway, out of bed just like himself. He put on a sheepish smile to the older man. “Am I that obvious?” 

“Maybe not to others,” Gordon said as he shuffled inside on unsteady feet. He held his robe closed to keep draft at bay. “But I’ve been on the force too long to not notice that look.” 

“What look?” Blake inquired as the older man stood beside him. 

“Like a man on a mission.” Gordon huffed. The aged man squinted behind his glasses toward the screen and frowned. “What you did was crazy enough, recklessly pursuing an unknown assailant into their territory without proper backup.”

“If I may be honest, Sir, you done the same thing.” Blake replied and earned an unamused look from the Commissioner. “Ok, maybe it was slightly different. You did have back up with you.” Not like it helped. 

The Commissioner expression stayed and Blake couldn’t help but feel like a kid that was caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“You’re right,” Gordon agreed, turning his gaze from him to the screen. “And look at where it got us.”

“We’re now the two men who survived the ‘psychopathic crazy mercenary’.” John offered a wry smile that faded when he noticed Gordon’s somber expression. 

“...In your honest opinion, officer, do you think Bane fit those descriptions?” Gordon spared him a sidelong look. 

Blake looked at him, debating between what he should say and what he wanted to say. Gordon wasn’t Foley… Blake turned back at the screen as the footage was replayed again. “No.” He confessed. “It takes a lot of research to pull that shit.” He nodded toward the TV. “Not to mention he doesn’t fight like a thug on the street. He was trained, which means he has to be disciplined and focus.” Not like the Joker, who was the epitome of a bat shit, crazy psychopath. 

“Sociopathic?” Gordon inquired. 

“No.” Blake responded before he could stop himself. 

Gordon raised a bushy brow. “Really?” 

Blake shrugged dismissively and avoided his eyes. “I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling.” 

“Is it the same feeling that led you down into the sewers?” Gordon asked, his eyes stayed on the younger officer. “... Tell me, all units were ordered to go after "The Batman". How come you decided to go after the biker? You didn’t even know it was Bane until you got down to the sewers.” 

Blake’s gaze lowered as he ran through the memories of that night. His mind practically wrote an essay-length reasoning as to why he went after the biker instead the Bats but none of it felt right. He sighed softly. “A feeling.” 

There was no response. The silence sent a spike of apprehension inside of Blake. That was the wrong answer. He turned to Gordon, “Commissioner--”

“What is that feeling telling you now, son?” Gordon interjected, his eyes never wavering from his face. 

Blake opened and then closed his mouth. He thought about it and let out a slow exhale as his eyes wandered back to the screen. “That this isn’t over. That something bigger is coming our way.” 

Gordon went silent again. His expression unreadable as he looked at him. He turned away and shuffled back to the doorway. “That some instinct you have there, kiddo.” He placed a hand on the doorway and looked back at Blake. “Despite what others may say or think, trust your gut. More often than not, it is right.” He said and then turned around and returned to his room.

Blake exhaled noisily with a slight tremor. It felt good, to be frank, even though it wasn’t completely honest. At least he had someone on his side, which was not always the case. He shook his head and looked back at the TV screen. His brows furrowed. “Just what are you preparing for…” He mumbled when a glint from the corner of his eyes drew his attention to his window. The light shone through the window innocently enough. It was daytime after all... But something wasn’t right. 

Slowly, Blake walked around his bed to peer out of the window. His eyes scanned the area to see nothing amiss. Something was off but he couldn’t place it. 

“Now you’re just becoming paranoid…” He mumbled and pulled the curtains closed before he shuffled back to his bed.

\------

A few buildings away, peering down a scope, was the scruffy lieutenant of the masked mercenary. He reached to his earpiece and pressed the button. “His instincts not bad, but he’s still a cop,” Barsad spoke into the comm. “Not sure why you want to recruit him. Wouldn’t it complicate matters?”

“You misunderstand,” Bane’s voice filled his ear. “I’m not interested in recruiting him. I’m interested in what he’ll do.” 

“What does it matter?” Barsad scoffed. “He’s only one man.” He peered down the scope to see the swaying curtains that hung from the window. 

“Sometimes that all take to jeopardize the greater plan.” Bane said. 

“If you want, I can finish him off here and now.” Barsad said, his finger brushed against the trigger. 

“I want you to make sure that he stays alive to witness the new Gotham.” Bane replied. 

Barsad scoffed and eased his grip from his gun. “Should I bother asking _why_ you would want me to do that or would that be a waste of time.” 

“Do I need to answer that?” Bane replied, almost sounding amused. 

“No.” Barsad huffed and started to take his rifle apart. “But sometimes I do question your decisions. I’ll be back in my post within the hour.”

“I’ll see you then, Brother.” The line ended and Barsad packed away his weapon. He glanced back at the hospital one more time before he retreated from the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the plot bunny refuse to leave me alone... Lets see how far and where this story will take me :D 
> 
> Again, I hope you all enjoy the story.


	3. Frustration and Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You do know that you’re supposed to be resting, right?” Said an Asian man in uniform. He placed the laptop bag on top of the bed before setting the fresh clothes and greasy bag of food onto the nearby table. “Not eating shitty food or working off the clock.”

“You do know that you’re supposed to be resting, right?” Said an Asian man in uniform. He placed the laptop bag on top of the bed before setting the fresh clothes and greasy bag of food onto the nearby table. “Not eating shitty food or working off the clock.” 

“Don't you know, Ross…” Blake greedily grabbed the greasy bag with glee in his eyes. His eagerness dulled the flash of pain that raced up from his knuckles. Even now his knuckles were mottled with hues of purple and indigo but at least they were freed from the confines of the bandages. “We’re always on the clock. Gotta make sure cheating politicians are with their bitter wives after all.” Blake fished out a fry and popped it into his mouth with a dramatic sigh. God, he’s been dying for some real food. It hadn’t been that long since he was brought here but goddamn did he needed a break from their bland, healthier selections. “And you could never go wrong with comfort food.” He reached in for his burger and started to unwrap it. The grease and sauce slid out from the shiny wrapper and slicked his fingers with its unhealthy shimmer. 

“Unless you have a stroke or heart attack.” Ross reached into the bag to steal a fry. “If that happened, then I'm pretty sure the doctors and nurses wouldn't let me come back, badge or no badge.” He drawled. “Honestly, having some veggies in your diet isn’t a bad thing.”

“The burger comes with lettuce.” Blake pointed out. “How is it out there?” He took a big bite and let out another indecent moan. This was heaven. 

“Quiet and loud at the same time. Foley is shouting up a storm back in the precinct.” Ross explained and stole another fry from the bag. “There has been no sighting of the Bat since that night and when you add the press to that shit storm…” 

Blake rolled his eyes and swallowed down his bite. “What about the robbers? You know, the armed guys who raided Wall Street and held a couple traders hostage as they led a high-speed chase through the city.”

“Nothing.” Ross said, ignoring the snide tone in Blake’s voice. “The masked mercenary made no appearance either. Though, a couple of Feds did show up at the precinct with information on Bane.” 

Blake ignored his burger there and then. “What did they say?” 

“Keep in mind that this is from the grapevine.” Ross emphasized. “The only person who knows the details in their fullest is Foley but from what I gathered, this Bane person sounds like your typical merc. A hired gun with a crew who would follow him straight to hell and back. His name became infamous by how well he and his team were able to smuggle diamonds across the world without anyone the wiser. He was sought after by the big names in the dark web but that all changed.”

“How so?” Blake’s brows furrowed. 

“He went after a different target. He and his goons took down a federal plane--in midair--and killed all the agents, pilots and the scientist that was riding with them.” Ross informed. “It happened so effectively that the pilots couldn’t even radio a mayday.”

Blake stared at him surprised as he tried to wrap his mind around it. This sounded like something you expect from a blockbuster movie, not in real life. Except this was real life and Bane… Bane didn’t sound like a typical merc. A typical merc wouldn't be able to pull that off. “Who was the scientist?” he asked, sounding a little daze. 

“Pasha, Hansel…” Ross frowned. “It was a foreign name. He was a physicist, I think.” 

“That doesn’t help at all.” Blake said, wrapping his burger back in its wrapper before setting it aside. He snatched a couple napkins to wipe the grease from his fingers. “There’s gotta be a couple articles on it unless the fed placed a gag order on the story.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.” Ross moved past the table to the nightstand next to the hospital bed. He grabbed the pitcher of water and poured them both a cup. He handed one to Blake. “Honestly, the only thing that is making the news is that billionaire boyfriend of yours.” He remarked. 

Blake shot him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look as he took the cup.

Ross countered with a cocked brow and a nod toward the small screen. The news was replaying the billionaire’s walk of shame. “You know, Mr. Wayne, the guy you snuck off to meet with during office hours--And please, tell me you didn’t expect me not to notice your sudden disappearing act.”

“Somehow you concluded that I was visiting _him_?” Blake poured as much skepticism and nonchalance in his voice. 

“Are you telling me that it wasn’t _your_ visit that brought him out of his hermit lifestyle?” Ross questioned. 

A tiny, barely discernible twitch tugged at the corner of Blake’s lips before the officer could stop himself. That was enough to cause a smirk to spread on his partner’s face. 

“Motherfucker, you didn’t know shit.” Blake groaned and tossed the balled-up napkins at Ross, who swatted it aside. 

“I didn’t until now.” Ross said, setting the pitcher aside to come back around with his cup in hand. “But seriously, did you just marched up to the Wayne Manor and pounded at the guy’s door till he let you in?” He looked far too amused and excited about it. “Did you have to go through a security checkpoint like the JFK Airport?”

“As far as I know, there was no TSA or any security on hand. Just a butler.” Blake made a face. He received cases that involved the rich and their lifestyle but maids and manservants and all that still seemed too weird for him. He gulped down the water before setting aside the paper cup. 

“A butler.” Ross repeated, “And this butler let you in without any fuss or demand of a warrant? If you don't mind me saying, this is starting to sound like you and Mr. Wayne have some sort of history that I don’t know about. You two a thing?” He teased before taking a swig of water. 

“No, we’re not a _thing_.” Blake drawled, “And if you must know, I prefer my guys to be bigger.” A mischievous smile escape him as Ross sputtered and choked back on his drink. 

“You’re an asshole, Blake.” Ross coughed and tried to clear his throat. “But seriously, why the sudden visit to the Wayne Manor? It’s not like he’s been doing anything crazy until now.”

Blake went quiet as he thought back on that day, his expression sullen. Absently, he reached for his laptop case and pulled out his computer and phone from it. “It’s because he wasn’t doing anything that I decided to drop by.” He turned on his machine and waited for it to boot up. “Fundings for St. Swithin Orphanage is running low and available rooms are becoming more and more scarce.” He logged in and opened a browser to start on his research for the masked man and his origin. “Because of all of that, the older kids are finding themselves in situations that they don’t deserve…”

The humor slipped from Ross’ face as the seriousness of the subject settled all around them. “You’re talking about the kid they found near the sewers.” He stated. 

“The kid’s name is Jimmy.” Blake corrected, “And yeah, the only reason why he was out there was because he had nowhere else to go. He aged out of the orphanage and without any foster home to turn to, well…” He trailed off. “So, I decided to drop by the manor and give the guy a piece of my mind.” 

Except that was a lie. Not a complete lie but close. The peace in Gotham was starting to wane and he felt that they needed hope again, that they needed the Batman. To be honest, it annoyed and left him feeling disgusted with himself. He should’ve pushed harder for the orphanage, for the kids. 

“And you didn’t punch the rich bastard?” Ross asked, snapping Blake out of his self-pity. 

“No, but I wanted to.” That was true. “Anyways, did you check the coordinates? The ones for the tunnels.” He asked, forcefully changing the subject while he put more effort into his research. 

“No.” Ross held up a hand to stop Blake’s protest. “No one is allowed to go down into those tunnels, Foley’s orders.”

“What the flying fuck?” Blake blurted much too loudly as he stared at Ross as if he was crazy. “Why? I mean look at what happened to Gordon! Look at what happened to me! He’s fucking down there--”

“But we don’t know where he is.” Ross reasoned. “Blake, you saw the map of the tunnels when you sent them to me, right? It’s a maze. We could have the entire GCPD down there and there'd still be room to walk around and we’ll still get lost.” Ross’ brows furrowed. “Look, I know you and Foley don’t see things eye to eye--the whole precinct knows that too. But honestly, Blake, Foley has a point. If Bane is down there, then we’re at a disadvantage. We nearly lost you and Gordon. Foley doesn’t want to risk any more men until we know more details.” 

Blake wanted to protest. He wanted to argue but he couldn’t because what can he say against that? They don’t know where Bane is and they were at a disadvantage. His suggestions were only guesses of where Bane and his men could be hiding. Guesses wasn’t going to help anyone. He needed to be smarter about it. He needed a lead. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Blake turned back to the computer screen. His hands balled in tight fists despite how his knuckles ached. “Fuck.” He shook his head when a new image from the TV caught his eyes. He glanced over just in time to see Wayne Enterprises' PR team took the spotlight. Lucius Fox stood behind a lovely, brunette woman who wore a confident, charming smile. Below the image, the headline read ‘Is Miranda Tate the new face of Wayne Enterprises?’ His brows furrowed a little as his eyes climbed back to the woman’s elegant face. She was lovely and for some unknown reason, she unnerved him. 

“Look, Blake, don’t beat yourself up. We’re all working around the clock to find this bastard.” Ross assured, tossing his paper cup into the bin, unaware of Blake’s wandering thoughts. “Get some rest, ok? I gotta get going before they notice that I’m not at my post.” 

“Yeah, thanks for the food and my things.” Blake reluctantly tore his eyes from the TV. 

“Anytime. Your car is in the main lot, closest to the emergency doors.” Ross said as he headed for the doorway. “Your keys are in your bag. Call me if you need anything else.” 

“Thanks, man.” Blake replied with a half-hearted wave as his partner disappeared behind the wall. With a sigh, he looked back at the TV. The reporter shifted the story toward the gossip that started to make their rounds. More or less, some of the senior, white men were not happy with the change. One of those men was a sleazy looking man who has a sleazier looking assistant who chased after his heels like a pup. The older man did not try to hide his displeasure of the whole situation. 

His dark eyes darted down to the screen to catch the name, “John Daggett.” He looked back at the angry man before he turned to his computer and erased his search for Bane. 

_Who had the most to gain from Bruce’s “gambling”…_ he thought to himself as he scoured the internet. Information started to fill his screens regarding the new and old heads of Wayne Enterprises. Most of it was mundane and trivial but some were interesting. Daggett was a curious subject that resonated a sense of deja vu whenever he crosses that name but he could never pinpoint where or why that feeling hovered over him like a shadow. Before he knew it, he was so lost in his work that he didn’t realize how much time had pass till the soft buzz of his phone broke his concentration. Without taking his eyes from the screen, he grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

“Officer Blake here.” He greeted. 

“Blake, it’s Father Reilly.” The priest’s voice sounded strained and tired. 

Blake’s focussed snapped to the phone immediately. “Father? Is there something wrong?” He glanced at his surroundings and noticed how the sun was beginning to set between the buildings. Dark, grumbling clouds were starting to gather over the city and with them was an icy chill in the air. 

“I was wondering if Jason called you?” Reilly asked, trying to sound hopeful but was failing. 

“No…” Blake felt a pang of anxiety bubbled in his stomach. “Why?”

“For the past couple days, Jason seemed like he was reverting to his old self. The volunteers noticed that he had been acting out. He even started a couple fights with the older kids. Then today I spoke with the other children and none of them saw him at lunch. I didn’t think that was unusual because he does have a habit of skipping meals but neither I, the staff nor the kids saw him at dinner. We checked the basketball courts and his room but there was still no sign of him. I think he might’ve ran away. I was hoping that he tried to contact you. He trusts you.”

“No…” Blake quickly checked his phone for any messages and double-checked his emails. Nothing. “No, Jason hadn’t reached out to me. He probably just breaking curfew again like he had before.” Blake supplied, not sure if he was trying to convince the priest or himself. “But I’ll check his old stomping grounds in case he shows up there.” He rolled out of bed and fished for his clothes. He wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I’m sure nothing is wrong.”

“It is probably nothing but I rather know for sure.” Father Reilly spoke with an odd tone to his voice. 

“Father, is there something else I should know?” Blake hoisted his jeans up and quickly slide on a shirt. 

“Tim is also missing.” The priest said. “I think he followed Jason.”

 _Shit._ “I wouldn’t be surprised. Timmy has always looked up to Jason.” Blake tossed the hospital gown onto the bed and shrugged on his jacket. He quickly repacked his things into his bag. “Look, Father, don’t worry. I will find them and bring them back. Keep me posted if you noticed anything else unusual, ok?” 

“I will. Thank you, Blake.” The priest hung up. Blake shoved the phone into this pocket and hurried out of the room like a bat out of hell. 

He will find those kids. He will.

\------

Barsad watched as the officer left the hospital in a hurry. A nurse pursued after him, gesturing wildly for him to get back into the hospital. The officer looked apologetic and kept shaking his head as he walked further into the parking lot. In his hand was a black laptop case. Barsad cocked his head and lowered his gun to the curious bag.

He reached for his earpiece and pressed down onto the button. “Your little bird is leaving the nest.” The officer yanked open the door to his beat-up gray sedan and set the laptop on the passenger side before getting in and then starting the engine. 

“Stay with him.” The metallic voice replied. 

“You don’t want any eyes on Gordon?” Barsad inquired as he swiveled his gun up toward the commissioner’s window. 

“Gordon is not going anywhere. Stay with the officer.” Bane replied without any hesitation.

Barsad let out a weary sigh as the gray sedan left the hospital. “All right.” He started to pack up. “I heard Dagget was causing a scene.”

“Yes, he was. It seems like he doesn’t understand his role in our mission, but he will soon enough.” Bane replied.

Barsad could not help but feel a little pity for the money man. That pompous ass had no idea what he got himself into. “I’ll report back once I reach my new post,” Barsad reported and checked his tracking monitor of the target’s movement. 

“Good, thank you, Brother.” Bane spoke and ended the line. 

Barsad shook his head as he finished his packing. Hopefully, this side job becomes more interesting with the new setting. 

“Or at least have a strip club around…” He mumbled, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder and left the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... might take a bit of time before Bane and Blake get back in the same room. I promise it is a Bane/Blake and story. Just taking a little longer than expected. This story is slowly evolving to a more plot-tier spectrum than initially planned. 
> 
> Despite it, I do hope the story is still entertaining for everyone. 
> 
> Happy Easter~


	4. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wait-wait,” Blake grinned. “You guys thought I was Batman?”

Lightning flashed and the rain came down like a waterfall, battering all those who found themselves outside. The poor windshield wipers did their best against the torrent but it was a losing battle. Blake had to squint hard to see and kept his car at an illegal slow pace as he scanned the area. Eventually, it rolled to a stop outside of a familiar, narrow alley that was next to a dive called Mick’s Bar. He snatched the flashlight and stepped out into the cold, hard rain. He soldiered on despite how his old injuries protested against the chill. He shone his flashlight down the drowning alley, searching for signs of a shelter or even a busted window. 

“Jason!” He shouted into the shadows. “Tim!” He strained his ears, waiting for a reply but heard none except for the low thunder that rolled above his head. His heart pounded in his chest as he walked deeper into the alley, knowing that the kids weren’t around. 

“Jason! Tim!” He shouted again but still heard no response. He felt the dread grew sharp and heavy in the pit of his stomach. There was only one more place that Jason might’ve gone to. It was a bit of a journey from the orphanage but it was the only other place that he could think of. The place where their paths had crossed: his apartment. 

“Please be there…” Blake shivered as he backtracked to the car. He tossed the dripping light onto the passenger seat--not bothering to switch it off--and peeled out of there. It took effort to resist the urge to press the gas. It would be stupid to rush it in this weather but logic did little to mitigate his growing impatience. Reality needed to catch up with his racing mind and pounding heart. 

If the kids weren’t at the apartment, then Blake was almost at a loss. There were other places where kids would go to but one option had dominated his mind and left him feeling sick: the sewers. Mark, Jimmy’s kid brother, had mentioned that Jimmy went down to the sewers for work. That means the other kids knew about it, including Jason. 

“But Jason is a smart kid…” He reasoned with himself. He was a resilient, stubborn brat that knew better than to venture to the sewers. There was no way he would’ve gone there, especially if Tim was with him. 

“Tim _is_ with him.” He stated out loud. There was no other option. Tim had to be with Jason. He wasn’t the sort of kid to venture out on his own, not at his age. He was the kind of kid who stuck by those he trusted and Jason was one of those people. Jason knew that too, so he wouldn’t go to the sewers. They _had_ to be at his apartment.

He turned the corner and saw the familiar view of his aging building. The surrounding neighborhoods wasn’t exactly the friendliest. Before the Dent Act, not many cops would venture into this area. After the Dent Act, it was slightly cleaner but not by much. His building was a sad, aged apartment complex that looked like it would be blown away by just a breeze. Fortunately, it was much tougher than that and had been Blake’s home for years. It didn’t matter that his pension could get him a better apartment, this was home. 

He parked in the shabby parking lot and rushed inside the building. His shoes squeaked and water dripped a trail behind him. He nearly skidded as he rushed up the stairs, two by two. He needed to slow down or else he’ll break his neck but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had to know that the kids were there and safe. In his haste, he nearly knocked a neighbor off his feet. 

“Fucking hell!” The larger, black man harped and bared his teeth at Blake. “Watch where you going you fucking ass.” 

“Sorry,” Blake said and walked passed him to get to his floor. He could feel the glare bored holes into the back of his head. 

“Also, Asshole, tell your kids to keep the volume down. This ain’t the Diamond District and I sure as hell ain’t interested in listening to some damn cartoon through the paper-thin walls after my shift.” The neighbor barked. 

Blake froze and felt hope leaped to his throat. “Will do.” He said and quickly stepped off the stairs and onto his floor. He shoved his hand into his pocket, grabbing his keys with tremblings fingers before he jammed it into the slot. With a twist, he shoved the door open, nearly banging it against the wall. 

Inside, all the lights were on along with the TV that was playing some cartoon series that Blake didn’t recognize. On the coffee table, he spotted a couple of soda cans and two emptied TV dinner trays. Oh, and two young boys peered out from behind his couch’s backrest.

The smaller of the two immediately perked up once he recognized him. A wide beaming smile practically covered the young face. “John!” He shouted and then his smile tilted to a quizzical frown. “Why are you so wet? Did you forgot your umbrella or something?”

The other boy, older and taller, tried to look smaller as if he was hoping that the couch would conceal him or better yet, that the floor would just swallow him up like a fish. Unlike the younger, he knew he was in trouble. 

Blake had every intention to confirm the kid’s suspicion but right now he was more focussed on coming down from his adrenaline rush. He leaned heavily against the doorway and offered a weary smile to the youngest. “Yes, I did,” Blake said. “I completely forgot it was going to rain. Can you snag me a towel from the bathroom, Tim? I don’t want to leave a mess.”

“You got it!” Tim eagerly said and jumped off from the couch and hurried off to the bathroom. In his rush, he didn’t notice Jason’s pleading look. 

The older boy swallowed hard and slowly turned to face Blake. He lowered his eyes and toyed with a loose thread from the throw blanket on the couch. “... I didn’t break your windows this time.” He stated as if that would absolve him from the fact that he broke into Blake’s apartment, again.

Instinctively, Blake’s eyes wandered toward the windows. True to the kid’s words, the windows were very much intact. At least this time he wouldn’t be seeing a five hundred dollar repair bill. “Thank you for being considerate,” Blake replied and returned his attention to Jason. “But you know this isn’t over. We are going to talk.” 

Jason gave a stiff nod and kept his eyes on the couch. 

Tim returned with the towel dragged along the floor behind him. “Here you go!” He offered it up to Blake. 

“Thanks.” Blake smiled and started to rub the towel into his hair. He felt droplets escaped down the back of his neck and underneath his soaked shirt. “All right, so I’m going to change before I freeze to death.” He began as he made his way to his room. “When I come back, we’re going to go to my car and you guys will help me bring my stuff in. Also, if you guys are still hungry, I can split my cold burger and fries with you.” He turned back to look at the kids. “Ok?”

“Okay!” Tim chirped and Jason nodded. 

“All right. Tim, grab my umbrella. I shouldn’t take that long.” Blake said before disappearing into his room. He took out his phone dialed the priest. 

The first ring barely passed before someone picked up. “Hello? Blake?” The older man sounded like he aged a couple years even though its only been a few hours since they last spoke. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Blake said as he sifted through his drawers for at least one pair of socks that didn’t have any holes in them. 

“Is there any news? Did you found them?” Father Reilly asked in earnest. 

“Yeah, I did and they are safe. ” Blake assured. 

“Oh thank the lord,” Father Reilly sighed loudly in relief. 

“I’ll bring them back in the morning, ok?” Blake said, “Get some rest, Father. You deserve it.” 

“I’ll try to. Thank you again, Blake.” The priest replied. 

“Anytime,” Blake hung up the phone and changed out of his soaked clothes. When he returned to the living room, the two kids were already waiting at the door. Tim was holding onto the umbrella and Jason looked like an impatient brat. The mere sight of that loosened the last of the tension from his shoulders. 

“All right, let's go.” He said and led them down the steps to his car. Armed with an umbrella, they managed to get to and from the car relatively dry. As promised, Blake heat his partly eaten burger and split it with the kids, along with the fries. Dinner took place in the living room, where they sat on the floor and used the coffee table as a dining table. The TV was playing but nobody was paying any attention to it. All eyes were on the youngest boy as he recounted his (and Jason’s) adventure through Gotham City.

It was an amusing sight, full of wild, expressive hands and even sound effects. There were some squabbles between the two boys on what exactly happened but despite the dramatics, it brought an enormous sense of relief to know that most of their journey was uneventful. 

The other parts though…

“You two conned a friendly couple into buying you lunch.” Blake stated. 

“What’s a con?” Tim asked, thoroughly confused. 

“A trick.” Jason explained. “And we didn’t trick ‘em. _They_ were the one who thought we were a couple of kids who lost their parents in some shopping center. It’s not my fault they jump to that conclusions. Also, it would be stupi-dumb if we didn’t take their offer. It was lunchtime after all.” 

“They were a really, really nice couple.” Tim idly interjected, recalling the event. “The lunch was really good too. Though, there was too much of that green stuff.” He made a face at the memory of the bitter greens.

Blake shook his head with a wry smirk on his face. “All right, so you guys got a free lunch and then you walked all the way here?” 

“Yup! Jason said it’s not smart to go into people’s cars, even if they say that it’s their job.” Tim informed, “And since Jason knew the way, we managed to get here before the rain did! Oh! Oh! He even did a magic trick with a hairpin and your door--”

“Tim!” Jason cut him off with a stern glare. 

“What?” Tim looked baffled and slightly hurt by the tone. 

“What did I tell you?” Jason said. 

Tim frowned and then lit up like a bulb. “Oh...yeah…” He turned to Blake. “Nothing happen!” 

His words fell on deaf ears as Blake gave a pointed look at Jason. “So that’s how you got in.” He cocked a brow and Jason lowered his head. “So you guys got here, raided my fridge and watched some TV. That explains the major B.O. and the dirt on the carpet.” He got up, “Come on. You guys badly need a shower. Hopefully, I have something for you guys to wear.” He mumbled as he headed to his room with the kids in tow. 

He opened his closet and rifled through his t-shirts. Jason wasn’t so much of a challenge--him hitting his growth spurt and all--but Tim was young and small. He pulled his Gotham Knights shirt from the closet and some shorts before he held it out behind him. “Here you go, Jason.” He handed it off before switching gears and focussed on his drawers. For a moment, he hesitated before he pulled a small shirt that buried beneath all his clothes. 

This shirt was too small for any adult, the fabric was thin but not see-through and the print was not as vibrant as it was before. Though, what could expect after years of enduring the washing machine and the additional mayhem a child would put their clothes through? 

Blake slid his fingers over the festive print that scrawled above the image.

Haley’s Circus  
The Flying Grayson

Below it was a circus backdrop, with silhouettes of the acrobatic trio flying in the air. Along the bottom was close up of the family in their bright red, green and yellow outfits.

“You can wear this one, Tim.” He offered the shirt along with drawstring shorts that were too big on Tim but that was the smallest that Blake had. 

Tim took the shirt and held it up curiously. “Who are the Flying Graysons?” 

“They were a family of acrobats that my mom used to watch all the time. She even brought me to one of their shows when they were in town--They would parkour in mid-air.” Blake clarified when he noticed the blank look on their faces. “God, I feel old…” He shook his head and turned to Tim. “That shirt is one of a kind, so please be gentle with it, ok?”

“I will!” Tim vowed.

Blake nodded. “All right, Tim, you’re first. Just leave your clothes in the hamper. I’ll take care of the laundry later. Jason, you’re helping me clean up” 

Jason let out a groan, which Blake ignored as the two of them headed back to the living room. Blake swung by the kitchen for a moment to grab a couple of trash bags. He handed one to Jason. “You start there and I’ll start here.” He gestured as they started on either end, cleaning up the mess the kid s(and himself) may have made. Blake cast a glance over his shoulder to Jason and thought about his words. He didn’t want to be blunt about it but his weary mind was failing him. He was never one for subtleties. “So, Father Reilly told me that you’ve been acting out.”

“Maybe Father Reilly should mind his own business.” Jason huffed as he aggressively shoved an empty tv dinner tray into the trash bag.

“Considering that he oversees the entire orphanage, it is kind of his business when one of his ward is acting out.” Blake pointed out. “He also said that you’ve been getting into fights.”

“So have you.” Jason shot back and then gave a nod toward Blake’s bruised knuckles. 

Blake looked down to his injured hands and didn’t try to deny it. Instead, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Jason, what is going on? In the past couple of months, you had been showing so much improvements in your grades and attitude. What change?”

“Maybe I realize that there’s no point in it.” Jason stated, turning his back to Blake. His voice was taut like a pulled cable. “Or maybe I’m just sick and tired of being everyone’s puppet by doing this and doing that for them.”

“You’re not a puppet and there **is** a point to this. Your grades do matter and the fact that you’re showing improvement means a lot.” Blake said, his brows furrowed as he set his trash bag down. 

“No it doesn’t!” Jason snapped, his voice begun to escalate, “None of it matters!”

“Why do you think that?” Blake pressed, trying to keep his voice controlled.

Jason whipped around to face him. “Because my birthday is coming up!” He shouted at Blake before he quickly turned away. 

Blake balked, confusion colored his face. “What?” He said, “What does your birthday has anything to do with…” His voice faded as his eyes widened when the realization dawned on him: Jason was turning sixteen. 

The officer looked, really looked, at the stubborn kid in front of him and noticed all the things he had missed. The slight tremor to his thin shoulders, how hard the kid pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling and how his eyes kept away from his to hide the fact that they glistened with so much anger, frustration and fear. Jason and probably many older kids knew that time was running out for them. They also knew that the odds were not in their favor. It was the same feeling he felt when he was a kid. Sometimes, he still felt it.

Blake left the trash bag on the floor and approached the kid as if he was approaching a cornered animal. Once he was a three-foot away, he kneeled as he had when he confronted the frightened kid who broke into his place the first time. “Jason--” He began. 

“Look I know I’m not getting adopted.” Jason’s voice wavered as he tried to keep that stubborn, angry kid front that Blake was all too familiar with. “I know that--”

“You don’t know that.” Blake insisted but Jason shook his head hard. The garbage bag stretched underneath the tightly balled fists of the teenager’s hands. 

“But I do!” He shouted. “I’m the kid that nobody wants. No orphanage, no foster home, no one.” He gritted his teeth hard. “So why should _I_ be on my best behavior when nobody even believes it? When all they see is just another street trash.”

“Because that’s not you.” Blake stated, his voice was calm and even. He made no move to try to catch Jason’s eyes because he knew it wouldn’t work. Especially when he heard the kid’s voice cracked and the soft sound of a sniffle. “You are a troublemaker and sometimes you could be a little shit… But you are also smarter than anyone gives you credit for. You also go out of your way to watch out for the younger kids when you don’t have to. You’re especially protective over Timmy, even if you think he holds you back.” He exhaled softly. “What I’m saying, is that there a lot more to you than what those people may say or think. I know it’s not easy. It sure as hell wasn’t easy for me but you shouldn’t let them decide who you are when they know nothing about you. The only person who knows who you are is you and you know that you are more than some “street trash”.” 

Jason didn’t replied. His head was down and away. His shoulders were trembling and he angrily wiped his eyes and nose with a sleeve. 

Blake lowered his eyes. “Turning sixteen isn’t a death sentence, Jason. It may feel like it but it’s not. You’re not dealing with this alone either. You have Father Reilly--and you know he does his best to try to find rooms for you and opportunities. You have me too.” 

“You weren’t there for Jimmy.” Jason finally looked at him. His nose red and eyes were wet but held back the tears as best he could. 

Blake felt his chest clenched at the reminder. “I know...” He admitted, not bothering to try to explain his side because, in the end, it didn’t matter, Jimmy was dead. His gaze rose as looked at the teen before him. “I wish I could take that back but I can’t. So instead I’m going to try harder. I know I can’t make any promises that I will always be there but I will do everything I could to help you and the others. And if it gets too much or if you feel like the world is closing in on you, then reach out to me. You know where I work, you broke into my place twice, though I would appreciate it if you just call me instead of the latter.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a phone.” He pointed out. 

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t lifted Father Reilly’s or any of the volunteer’s phones because we both know that isn’t true.” Blake fired back and smiled a little when Jason let out a huff of laughter. “Look, I know I can’t be your dad--because I’ll be one hell of a shitty dad--but I can be like big brother for you.” 

“You’ll be a shitty older brother.” Jason scoffed. His voice was a bit hoarse but his humor was starting to filter in. 

“Language,” Blake gave him a half-hearted chiding look, “And I’ll be an awesome older brother.” He smirked before slowly climbing back to his feet. 

“You’re too old to be an older brother.” Jason griped. 

“I am very young at heart.” Blake retorted as he walked back to his forgotten bag. His back was toward Jason, giving the kid a moment to compose himself. He tossed a couple of empty cans into the trash bag. “So... who was the kid that you’re bullying?”

“I wasn’t bullying anyone.” Jason denied, “Besides, you can’t bully Whitmore. He bullies everyone.”

“That’s true,” Blake agreed and casually toss a look over his shoulder to Jason. “Did you win?”

Jason looked at him as if he was crazy. “Of course I did.” He glanced back to Blake’s hands. “Did _you_ win?”

“Nope.” Blake replied honestly and earned a startled laugh from Jason. “Hey, we can’t win them all.”

“Right…” Jason drawled, with a wry smile. He shook his head. “Though it confirms it.”

“Confirms what?” Blake cocked a brow. 

“You can’t be the Batman.” Jason replied. “Batman never lost a fight.” 

“Wait-wait,” Blake grinned. “You guys thought I was Batman?” 

Jason rolled his eye and closed up the trash bag. “Some of the _other_ kids think you’re the Batman just because you arrest a couple, bad guys. They just don’t know how wrong they are.” 

“Hey, I resent that.” Blake remarked just as the bathroom door open. 

“I’m done!” Tim announced as he bounced out of the steaming room. 

Blake shook his head and nodded toward the bathroom. “Your turn.” He said to Jason. 

Jason nodded and quickly headed to the bathroom to get wash up. After their talk, the tense air disintegrated and made the evening passed more smoothly. He gave up his room to the boys while he took the living room. He made sure the windows were secured and the blinds closed before he gathered the laundry and headed downstairs to the laundry room. He tossed the pile in, slotted a couple quarters and let it run. 

His mind whirled in his head before he gritted his teeth and kicked hard against the washing machine “Fuck!” He hissed to himself. 

He should’ve been more honest with Bruce. He should’ve demanded that Bruce get off his lazy ass and do something instead of a pussyfooted comment before leaving. He needed to find Bruce and deal with this matter once and for all… Except that wasn’t the only thing on his plate. There was still Bane and his goons who are roaming somewhere in Gotham. Not to mention whoever the hell brought Bane here, to begin with. 

_I know where Bruce is. I can find him,_ which he could do after he drops off the kids. Tonight though, he would need to research about Bane and his mysterious employer. Who that employer maybe could have a stake in the stock market… or was the one who was most upset by the recent turn of events.

Daggett.

\------

The rain pounded against the makeshift tent as Barsad’s fingers tapped against the side of his scope. The curtains were drawn, so for now, the officer was out of his line of sight. No matter, it allowed him to digest all that he had witnessed or at least allowed him to think back on his research. There was no record of Blake having any kids, signed marriage certificates or even whispers of a girlfriend. 

Though, it did mention that he worked closely with the St. Swithin Orphanage as a basketball coach. Those kids could be wards from that orphanage. That would explain things. 

“It seemed like our plan is moving forward.” Bane’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Our visitor should be arriving soon. ” 

Barsad pressed the button to his comm. “So she did hold her end of the bargain. I was starting to have doubts about her.” 

“She might feel some sympathy for him, but she would not put his life above hers. She is a survivor first and foremost.” Bane said. “If she follows the deal to the very end, then she leaves unharmed and undamaged. Should she betrays us--”

“Then she’ll be taken care of. I should be back at the base in fifteen.” He said then ending the comm. Tonight was going to be interesting after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became much longer than I planned or expected. I know there's a lack of Bane, but we're getting there eventually. Until then, I hoped that you all enjoyed this nest full of Robins.


	5. Tunnels and Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ross here.” 
> 
> “Hey, do you remember the case of the cheating politician?” 
> 
> “Gotta be more specific than that, Blake.” 
> 
> “The recent case. The missing congressman whose wife put a bounty on his head and the mistress.”
> 
> “Oh yeah, heh. What about it?”
> 
> “Send me the information regarding the mistress.”
> 
> “You’re off the clock.” Ross reminded, “I am already going to get in trouble for looking into these so-called leads--”
> 
> “I think I found her.”

He couldn’t find Bruce anywhere. At first, it was no big deal. This was a billionaire after all. He can go wherever he wanted to. He was also Batman. So, he could be investigating Bane’s whereabouts at this very moment. It was the latter thought that Blake held onto until the third day passed without so much as a whisper of the cape crusader. 

Something was wrong. 

Blake peered down at his phone and reviewed the information before he started across the street. The area wasn’t the Diamond District but it was close. Swanky, historical but modern townhomes line up against one another like soldiers. He took a breath and climbed out of his vehicle. He crossed the streets, walked up the steps and stopped at the door. Out of uniformed and in civilian clothes, he felt self-conscious knowing that his ilk wouldn’t be able to dream of living here. 

He shook off the feeling and rapped his knuckles against the sturdy door and waited. He idly glanced his at surroundings. It wasn’t long till the doorknob turned and revealed an older man with white wisps that crowned his head. Gentle, fatherly blue eyes peered at him. “Yes?”

“Hi,” Blake began awkwardly before his pride stamped away his nervousness. “Hello Mr. Pennyworth, I don’t know if you remember me…”

“I remember you,” Alfred Pennyworth said with that gentle, posh British accent of his. The older man only spoke four words and already Blake felt like some uncouth plebeian. It was easier speaking to Bruce. 

“You were the officer who came to the Manor.” Alfred continued. “The one who alluded about a warrant of Mr. Dent’s death.” 

Blake cringed a little. That was a bit much. “Yeah, that was me…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll admit that I was out of line.” He scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, I was surprised that you didn’t turn me away.” 

“I doubt that I would be able to turn you away,” Alfred commented, “You seemed to be a stubborn sort.”

“You are right on that assumption.” Blake agreed, “Look, I’m sorry for disturbing you but I was hoping you could help me.” 

“And how can I be a service, Officer?” Alfred inquired. 

“Please, just call me Blake or John. I’m currently not on the clock per se.” Blake explained. 

“All right, Mr. Blake. How could I help you?” Alfred repeated, which was still a bit too formal for Blake’s liking but at least he didn’t say ‘Master Blake’, that would unnerve him. 

“I was wondering if Mr. Wayne had spoken to you recently.” Blake asked. 

Alfred frowned and his expression became sullen. “Unfortunately, no. The last I’ve spoken to Master Wayne was about the time when the news reported about his recent endeavors.” 

Blake looked surprise and wanted to ask why but something about Alfred’s face made the question died on his tongue. “I see…” Blake licked his lips. “All right… besides the Wayne Manor and the company, is there any other place where Mr. Wayne would go?” 

“Is he not in either of those locations?” Alfred asked, sounding perplexed and concern. 

“No. I even tried contacting Lucius Fox but he is currently occupied with the company's recent change in hierarchy.” Blake said, “I’m not trying to threaten him with another false warrant or accuse him for not paying his parking tickets. There’s just something I’m dealing with right now and I feel like he would have a better grasp on the matter.”

Alfred looked at him with a peculiar awareness that Blake couldn’t describe but didn’t felt threatened by it. “I see…” Alfred said, “Unfortunately, I don’t know where he could be.” 

“Ok,” Blake replied with a weary sigh. “Thank you and I’m sorry for bothering you. His list of friends isn’t as extensive as one would think.” 

“It is how he prefers it to be.” Alfred retorted. “Is there anything else that I can help you with, Mr. Blake?”

Blake shook his head. “No, that's all I wanted to ask. Thank you, though, Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Alfred.” The older man corrected.

Blake looked in surprise and felt a small smile tugged at his lips. He offered a hand to the older man. “Only if you call me John.” 

“That would be improper, Mr. Blake.” The old man took his hand in a firm, strong grip. 

Against his palm, Blake felt the years of service that this man had willingly underwent for the Wayne family. “Thank you, again.” He let go and started back down the steps to head for his car. 

“Mr. Blake,” Blake stopped and turned to see Alfred at the top of the steps. “If you do find Master Wayne, please let me know.”

Blake nodded without hesitation. “I will.” He promised and meant it. He turned back around and continued his way to his car. He glanced toward the steps to see Alfred’s retreating form. The list of reasons to find Bruce was growing at a rate that he couldn’t keep up. 

_Where was he?_

He grabbed the map from the passenger side and crossed out another location. The map was slowly being consumed by the amount of X’s and O’s. Every lead was a dead end at this point. Besides Bruce, there was also the case about Daggett that he needed to talk to Ross about. It was kind of funny. Ever since he started researching about Daggett, he was noticing more and more of the man’s construction crew scattered across the city. Then again, it was a city which meant there was always something undergoing construction in one form or another. 

Blake looked back to the map and eyed Wayne Enterprises. He could try again. He doubted he’ll get through but at least he would be doing something. He switched on the engine and started his way back to the corporate high rise. The traffic there allowed his mind to wandered to the endless possibilities that would explain Bruce’s absence. Also to note the lack of activity from Bane and his goons. He knew this for certain, considering he listened to his scanner nearly every night in case of any unusual criminal activities. None had occurred so far. It was as if the red biker left Gotham but that thought didn’t sit right with him. Something was off. What that was, Blake couldn’t say for sure. 

“Pull it together, Blake.” He grumbled to himself as he stopped at the light. His eyes lowered to the passing cars and pedestrians when he noticed her.

A woman don in form-fitting but classy black dress walked among fellow Gothamites. Her purse in hand and carry on trailed behind her as she crossed the street. Her confidence and appearance had caused both men and women to give her a double-take, which made sense. She was beautiful, striking even. So much so that nobody thought it was peculiar for her to wear such a dramatic, oversize hat that would take the spectators’ attention away from her face or that her perfectly matched gloves would prevent any fingerprints being left behind.

He blindly reached for his phone and speed-dialed Ross. His eyes remained on the woman as she stepped back onto the sidewalk and headed for the busy lot of the Gotham City Airport. 

“Ross here.” Ross greeted from the speaker of his phone.

“Hey, do you remember the case of the cheating politician?” Blake observed before he reluctantly drove through the intersection. As soon as he could, he made another turn to circle back toward the airport. 

“Gotta be more specific than that, Blake.” Ross retorted. 

“The recent case. The missing congressman whose wife put a bounty on his head and the mistress.” Blake elaborated.

“Oh yeah, heh. What about it?” Ross asked.

“Send me the information regarding the mistress.” Blake said.

“You’re off the clock.” Ross reminded, “I am already going to get in trouble for looking into these so-called leads--”

“I think I found her.” Blake interjected.

“What? What do you mean you found her? She’s a high class, high-end thief. She wouldn’t be out in broad daylight.” Ross sounded skeptical.

“Well, she **is** out in broad daylight and it looks like she trying to make a getaway. Call for backup and I’ll contact airport security.” Blake stated before hanging up. Immediately, he called the airport and passed on the information to them as he parked into the lot. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hurried inside the bustling airport.

Fortunately, luck was on his side. Unfortunately, that cannot be said about the airport security rookie who ended up nursing a broken nose thanks to the thief’s right hook. Blake gave him a sympathetic look as he passed him in the hall. He anxiously tapped his pen against the pad of paper. He was fidgety, almost giddy with a shot of adrenaline through his veins. This was big for him. It was not often that you get a chance to nab an infamous thief. From what he read, she was seductive, smart and an escape artist. He needed to be on his guard. He stopped at the door of the holding room and forced himself to focus. With a deep inhale, he opened the door and stepped into the room. 

The room was pleasant in appearance. Honestly, it looked more like a break room rather than a place to hold thieves in but this airport didn't see anything wrong with this. Slowly, his attention zone in on the thief, who sat in the center of the room. Her dark locks done up in a bun without a single strand out of place. Her posture was straight but relax, as if this was routine for her and it probably was. Her confidence and elegance that he witnessed before was shining brightly. It was almost unquestionable until you see her eyes. They darted toward the wall clock, almost nervously. 

“You know Ms. Kyle, with a record like yours, it’s amazing that you would try to leave. Security on high alert and all of that.” Blake came around and took a seat across from her.

A humorless smile touched her red lips. “What can I say? I had a flight to catch.” Her wary, dark eyes focussed on him and then eyed his clothes. She cocked her brow. “Has the GCPD decided to go the undercover route just to nab me?” 

“No, that honor goes to a different team.” Blake replied. “I was actually off the clock until I saw you.”

“Lucky me.” She drawled.

“You haven’t been that lucky lately. With a record like yours, even kids would know who you are.” He rested his arms on the top of his legs and leaned forward. “So why try to fly out now?”

“Like I said, I had a plane to catch.” Selina repeated.

“I doubt it’s that simple.” He pulled back a little. “There hadn’t been any recent record of you stealing another man’s bank account or summer homes. Even if there were, I don’t think you would care enough to leave Gotham because of them.” His gaze met hers. “So I have to ask, what would cause someone like you to run?” His brows furrowed when he noticed the slight tension to her shoulders. “Is it Bane?”

She bristled at the name. Her cool demeanor melted away as she looked at him with a cold, frank stare but there was something else reflecting from her eyes. Something that contrasted against her outward appearance: guilt. 

“What do you know about Bane?” Blake asked, trying to keep back the earnest from his voice.

“That you should be afraid of him as I am.” She replied.

“If you provide us with information, then we could help you. We can offer you protection.” Blake suggested and she rolled her eyes hard.

“You should know better than I do, Boy Scout, that nobody is safe in Black Gate.” She chided. That was the truth. The Dent Act had done a number on the criminals on the street but that didn’t mean it was foolproof. There was still corruption and if Bane wanted her dead, she’ll be dead.

Blake closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He knew that the woman knew more than what she was saying. She might've even worked with Bane at one point but it was also clear that she was terrified of the masked mercenary. Add the fact that she was also a criminal meant that she was under no obligation to help Blake with anything… But he had to try. 

“You know, I was looking for a friend when I ran into you.” he began and opened his eyes to peer at the woman across from him. “You might know him, probably even stole something from him once or twice: Bruce Wayne.” 

Her eyes widened a fraction and the stubborn scowl fell into a frown. Reluctantly, she pulled back and turned her head away from his scrutiny. She knew.

Blake swallowed hard. “Did they kill him?” 

“...I don’t know.” She confessed. Her voice was barely higher than a whisper now. 

Blake glanced at her and then at his pad of paper and pen. He leaned forward and placed it between them. “Can you map out where he was?”

Her eyes flickered to his. The guilt was gone and was replaced with confusion and tension. “You wouldn’t want to go down there.”

“If I didn’t want to, then I wouldn’t ask.” Blake stated.

“Are the GCPD that eager to die?” She scoffed, not quite believing Blake. 

Blake shook his head. “Didn’t I told you? I'm off the clock. This has nothing to do with the GCPD.” He replied, “I just want answers.”

A look of pure incredulous marred her face before her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I didn’t thought Mr. Wayne was like _that_...” 

“He isn’t.” Blake replied. “And sorry to burst your bubble, I’m not into him.” He leaned forward again and held her gaze. “You said that you weren’t sure if he was dead or not. I need to know for sure. Some people need to know.”

“The answer down there might not be the one you want.” She warned.

“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m used to disappointments.” Blake said and pushed the pen and paper to her. “We don’t have much time till the escorts come here. Are you going to help me?” 

She looked at the paper and then at him. Her expression was unreadable and he was about to let out a sigh of defeat when she reached over and grabbed the pen. “If you die down there…”

“It’ll be my fault and my fault alone.” He finished and watched her quickly scribbled on the note pad. 

She tore off the sheet of paper and offered it to him. “You have no idea what you’re up against.” 

“I beg to differ.” He took the paper gratefully. “I already had a taste of what I’m dealing with.” He quickly pocketed it as the door swung open. Stepping inside was two rookie officers and behind them was his partner.

“She ready for you, Ross.” He put on a chipper look and climbed to his feet. He looked at the two other officers. “You should be careful with that one. If you’re not, then you might wind up with a broken nose.” He advised us he passed them. He glanced at Ross. “I won’t be able to stay. There’s something I gotta do.” 

“Hey, wait. There’s something that I need to talk to you about.” Ross grabbed for Blake’s arm but the Blake managed to dodge it. 

“You can tell me later.” He said, with a guilty expression. “I’m already late as is. I owe you one!” He apologized before he ducked out into the hallway. He kept his pace to a hasty walk as his heart hammered in his chest. The weight of the note in his pocket was enormous. It was only when he got into his car did he pulled out the piece of paper and scanned the instructions.

\------

To his amazement and relief, she didn’t duped him. The instructions were clear and concise but honestly, that didn’t make the journey any easier. The sewers were damp, musty and dark even with the lights that lined the walls and his flashlight. It wouldn’t take much to get lost at down here but at least this time he was better prepared. On one side of his hip rested a radio and on the other side was his gun. The instruction crumpled against the flashlight as he pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket to mark the wall of another intersection.

He wiped the sweat from his brows and peered ahead. 

So far, so good. There hadn’t been another soul in sight, which was a relief since there was an extensive amount of hiding spots around here. The shadows loomed all around him like a gang that inched closer every time he looked away. He had to force back his paranoia to keep walking. The muddled water sloshed around his shoes, soaking his socks until he felt the gentle slope raised him from the waters and onto the dry land. 

In front of him was another intersection. This one had two parallel paths that pointed forward and a third that veered off to the right. He squinted in the dark and drew his light down on each of them, then turned to face the right path when something bounced from the tip of his left shoe and skittered across the ground with a metallic clink. His light dropped to the floor and his breath caught in his throat. 

Scattered all around him and gleamed like eyes against the light, were empty bullet shells. Hundreds of them… It was obvious that a fight had taken place here. Whoever these gunmen were, they unloaded their arsenal onto their intruder. What was strange, though, was there were no bloodstains anywhere. 

_It could’ve been washed away… But why wash away the blood but not the casings?_ Blake slid his light along the ground and followed the trail of the empty casings. There were more of them but different. Some of them were your standard issue for a handgun and others were much larger. It was crazy to see so many on the floor. Paired that with the scrapings on the walls had led Blake to believe that the shooters were losing. You don’t waste that many ammo if you’re winning. Not to mention, you don’t shoot up an entire tunnel just to get your intruder.

Unless they didn’t know who they were facing or maybe, just maybe, they were afraid. 

_Batman._ It was a possibility and explained the scattered shots. The thought of it made him smirk as he followed the trail deeper into the cavernous tunnels. Eventually, the casings came to an end and was replaced by a near-deafening sound of rushing water. He turned his head toward the sound and then back to the path laid before him. He brought his flashlight over the crumpled note and frowned when he saw that the cheap ink had started to bleed and smear thanks to the environment and his sweaty palms. Selina said to go down the straight path but the rushing water made him curious. He took the chalk and marked the walls before he trekked down the ramp and approached the source of the sound. 

The lights down here were further apart or broken. Either way, it was darker, near pitch-black save for some pockets of light. His flashlight barely did anything to dark mass, only to reveal just the slight edge of a threshold, a doorway. His nerves prickled but he pressed onwards. For a moment, he was encased in the shadow’s embrace. If he didn’t have his flashlight on, then he wouldn’t be able to see his hands at all. 

Gratefully, the shadows receded and a thunderous sound that filled his ears. The awful smell of sewer water was muffled by the rushing current next to him. With caution, he stepped into the open room. His eyes roamed as he took in his surroundings. Looming all around him were endless walls that seemed to reach the heavens, which was ridiculous considering he was underground. Water trickled down those walls and some were expelled through broken pipes that left a stale, musky mist in the air. There were lights as well, but again never as bright as he hoped they would be. It was enough to reveal the numerous overpasses that laid above his head. They stretched from one side of the wall to the other. Some, including the platform directly above him, had chains dangling from it. From what it appeared, this pit was at least four stories high. It was surreal to know he was that deep underground.

He drew closer toward the center of the room and gaze upward toward the ceiling. His eyes narrowed as he climbed the grated steps to a small bridge that stretched over the racing waters. He tried to peer through the shadows that concealed it but it was hard to do so being four levels down. Not to mention, the entire top floor didn’t have a single light on. Despite it, there was something about that particular section of the ceiling did not look like the rest. It resembled more like a gaping maw with jagged protruding teeth than a proper ceiling. His gaze drifted downwards from there to see the pile of rubble that accompanied his floor.

 _The fight must’ve continued here…_ He thought as he approached the end of the bridge and climbed down the steps. He pointed the light toward the wreckage and scanned for any clues to what may have happened. Besides the obvious mess, nothing seemed out of place until he turned around and his light caught the edge of something. His eyes grew large and his voice shriveled up. 

There on the grimy floor was a matte black, broken mask. 

He stood there in shock, hoping he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was seeing. 

_It can’t be…_ His light trembled as he approached the mask that once belonged to the caped crusader. It peered up at him with its single empty socket as if it was watching him with a dead stare of a corpse. 

_No… Bruce is not dead.,_ he reassured himself. _He can’t be dead._ There wasn’t a body around from what he saw so far. Not even a drop of blood. It didn’t matter that they were in the sewers and that countless things could be washed away. Bruce, the Batman, was not dead. 

_He could’ve gotten out. He could be holed up somewhere recovering from this._

_Or Bane could had taken him._ That singular thought drove an icy blade into his gut and mercilessly twisted it. 

_No._ He shook his head. _No._ He peered down at the mask again. With hesitation and curiosity, leaned down and picked it up. To his surprise, it felt light in his hand but the material was far from cheap. It was durable and probably seen its shares of combat but even then it had its limits. His eyes roamed over the web of cracks that stretched over the partial face of the mask. God, it looked like someone took a baseball bat to it. 

_Or a fist._ He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. 

He couldn’t lose hope. He just couldn’t afford to, not when the kids needed him. 

He took a hissing breath and gaze down at the broken mask in his hand. He swallowed the thick knot in his throat and headed back to the bridge. He approached the rails, over the water. He gave it one more look before he let it slip from his fingers. Ravenously, the gurgling waters swallowed the mask whole and left no sign of its presence ever being there. 

Gotham City didn’t know what happened to the Batman. _He_ doesn’t even know what happened to him. Until he knew definitively, he must have hope. He needed it. _They_ needed it. 

“Blake!” A staticky voice shouted his name. Very loud and angry. 

It was enough to snap Blake out of his head and grabbed the radio. “Sir?” He said a bit confused. The radio crackled again and this time he could hear Ross trying to mediate the situation but Foley was not having it. 

“Where the hell are you?!” Foley snapped.

Blake rolled his eyes. “I’m following a lead, Sir-” 

“No, you aren’t. What you are doing, Officer is disobeying orders.” Foley harped. “Last time I recall, you were never permitted to return to the field--And don’t you dare try to feed me that bullshit of being given an early release from the hospital.” Foley cut Blake off before he utters a word. “I’ve already spoken with the head nurse and how you defied her orders to return to your room.”

Blake’s grip tightened around his flashlight. “There were things that I needed to take care of.” He almost growled. His anger thrummed hotly in his veins. 

“And you accomplished those things, right? So why didn’t you go back?” Foley inquired. “You know what, why don’t you explain all of this to me and Commissioner Gordon in person? Where are you?” 

“I told you, I am following a lead.” He repeated and this time he did growl. “If you want, I could show you what I found too.” He remarked mockingly as he continued over the bridge. “All you have to do is meet me on 4th and 7th, near the sewer entranceway. “ His head began to throb in his frustration. 

_This sonovabitch thinks he knows me? Thinks he has it all fucking figure it out? I’ll show him. I’ll show him just what the hell I’ve been doing, that goddamn ass--_

A distinct chime from a metal chain drew his anger and his chattering mind to a halt. He stopped where he was and stared ahead. There was a change in the air, much more distinct and familiar as it was during that reckless night. It triggered an animalistic, prey-awareness inside of him that he knew his predator had their sights on him. 

“Blake! Are you listening to me!?” Foley barked from the radio. 

Slowly, Blake brought the radio to his mouth. “I will meet you on 4th and 7th.” He repeated, then promptly dropped the radio in favor of his gun. In seconds, he whirled around, his gun and flashlight drawn to whoever was behind him--Only to find no one. 

He whipped his light from one side to the other and again, no one was around but he felt them. He could feel it in his bones that someone was there with him, watching him. 

He needed to leave. 

Not bothering to grab the radio from the floor, he backtracked out of the room and into the passages with hurried steps. He noted his markings as he passed them. He kept looking over his shoulders and nearly tripped on his own feet in his haste. 

The predator was not far. He felt their presence radiating against his back every time he looked away. It was like a hot breath against the back of his neck but every time he checked, there was nothing but the shadows. 

He stumbled out to the last intersection when he saw the light from outside peered into the tunnels. He could taste the smog-ridden city air too and it was wonderful. He pressed forward and could spot his beautiful shitty car along with the GCPD vehicle just outside. He swallowed hard and look back toward the tunnels. 

“Blake!” He turned to the voice and saw Ross jogged over to him before stopping abruptly. The Asian man’s face scrunched up in displeasure. “Jeezus Christ, you stink.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t smell so good either if you’ve been stomping in shit all day.” Blake harped, halfheartedly. His smile faded when he saw Foley approaching them. 

“I hope you found something big because Foley is pissed.” Ross warned as he came to Blake’s side. 

Their Deputy Commissioner practically marched over with a scowl on his face. That arrogant look melted away when Foley got in range of the smell. 

“God, you’re a mess.” Foley commented and covered his nose and mouth and did his hardest not to wretch. 

“That is the least of my worries right now.” Blake rolled his eyes. “Look, I may have found something that would help our case.”

“I don’t know if Officer Ross had told you or you just chose not to listen, but all officers are prohibited from going into the sewers.” Foley said. 

“And that’s because we didn’t know where to look. I think I have an idea where they could be.” Blake said, “If you give me a moment, then I’ll show you.” 

“And what? Get us all lost in the sewers. I think all the chemicals down there has gotten into your head, Officer Blake. You’re not making any sense.” Foley fired back. 

“I am making perfect sense.” Blake snapped and marched up into Foley’s space. “I know the way there. If you just shut your mouth for one fu--”

“Ok, ok!” Ross wrapped his arms around Blake and hauled him away from Foley before it could all dissolve into a fisticuffs between officers. “Why don’t we have a look, sir.” He wedged himself between them. “Just five minutes.”

Blake didn’t even bother to stick around to hear Foley's response. He was already marching back to the sewers that he practically ran from. He wasn’t going to run away from this. He will prove himself. He was confident of it. That confidence lasted until the first intersection. 

He scanned the wall, searching for the mark he knew he left behind. 

“Well, Officer Blake? Are you done wasting our time?” Foley piped up. He had his face partly covered with a handkerchief. 

“Give me a moment.” He harped but he could feel the panic nipped at the edge of his mind. The mark was gone. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the note and felt his frustration grew. The shitty ink was smeared everywhere to the point of making it indecipherable. “Fuck.”

“Your five minutes are up, Blake. It’s time for us to go and do the job that we are being paid to do.” Foley had already turned around and started for the exit. “Clean up and I expect you to show up at the hospital. If you don’t make an appearance, then I will have your badge.” 

Ross let out a sigh and gave his fellow officer a look of sympathy. “Blake--”

“I’m not crazy.” Blake stated.

“I’m not saying you are.” Ross replied. “I’m just saying that maybe what you think is a lead is just a coincidence.” 

“You saw the articles I sent you, right? You said that Bane worked in the blood diamond business. Daggett has business in the African regions. He had to be the connection between Bane and Gotham. Otherwise, it makes no sense for him to even be here.” 

“You might be reaching, Blake.” Ross stepped away from Blake and started for the exit. 

“How am I be reaching?” Blake asked. 

“Because Daggett is dead.” Ross stopped and turned to Blake. “That was what I wanted to tell you at the airport. They found Daggett’s body in his home. His neck broken. If Bane was working for him, then why would he turn on the man who pays him?” Ross shook his head. “I think this case is getting to you. After Foley and Gordon chews you out, you should eat something and get some sleep. You don’t have to worry about the case. We got it.” He offered a smile. 

“Yeah…” Blake replied, his mind reeling with the news. “Maybe you’re right.” He agreed just to agree and followed after his partner while his mind wandered off in a daze. 

_If Daggett was dead, then who was be Bane’s employer?_ His mind was so occupied by that single question, he didn’t even felt the pair of eyes that watched him from the tunnels.  


\-------

Deep in the tunnels, men and children worked diligently as the day approached while the others returned from their unexpected trip. Everything was falling into plan except for one, rogue piece. 

“Boss,” One of the armed men approached Bane. “We heard that there was a cop snooping around. If you want, we can take care of him for you.” He spoke with a wry smirk on his face and eagerness to his voice. It was the same one he seen in all of Daggett’s men. It made him think of eager children vying for approvals from their elders. 

“There is no need for that. We have other priority that demands our attention. Gather some of the men, we will be embarking soon.” Bane replied and walked away toward quieter grounds, where his second in command was reviewing the maps and layout of the Wayne Enterprise. “All routes are secured?”

“Yes and then some. They won’t know what hit them.” Barsad assured and then cast a sidelong look to his leader and brother. “...So, I heard that your little bird had ventured into the tunnels." He said, "After what happened, I would have thought he would fear the shadows.” 

“He does fear it.” He saw it in the cop’s eyes but there was something else. Something more stubborn that refused to burn out. It was familiar to the one he saw from Bruce but different. Much more different. “But he doesn't let the fear consume him.” He set down the discarded radio and picked his jacket from the crate. "Is everything is prepared and readied?" 

“Yes,” Barsad grabbed his gun and climbed to his feet.

“Then let’s proceed.” Bane said and then walked out of the room to rejoin the men outside that awaited his orders. He would see Talia today along with the other leaders to the Wayne Enterprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter sorta. I realized after writing it that I could've split it into two chapters easily... Oh well. 
> 
> For those who are reading, thank you for taking the time to read this. I do hope you enjoy it and I promise later on there will be more Bane and Blake interactions. I know it's been rather skimpy. 
> 
> Till then, may the fourth be with you.


	6. Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know the part in the movie where it’s just back to back action. Where the protagonist was riddled with exhaustion that the audience felt it, but that doesn’t stop them from wanting more. Blake was that protagonist and wanted nothing more than to flip the audience and world off.

You know the part in the movie where it’s just back to back action. Where the protagonist was riddled with exhaustion that the audience felt it, but that doesn’t stop them from wanting more. Blake was that protagonist and wanted nothing more than to flip the audience and world off.

The whole day had been nonstop; from the shootout at Daggett's construction site to everyone at Gotham Stadium witnessing the murder of two men. Around the same time, the majority of the GCPD was buried alive, more shootouts and an escape from Gotham City hospital with Commissioner Gordon. You know, typical day in Gotham.

By the time they got to his apartment, Blake could barely hold his keys because he was that tired. It took a few attempts before he managed to open the door then flipped on the lights. He turned and stepped aside for Gordon. “It’s not much but you could stay here.”

“Thank you, Blake.” Gordon nodded and entered his domain. He didn’t look at the place. It was more like he zoned in on the TV and made a beeline for it. He grabbed the remote and turned it on. He didn’t need to flip to the news because the news was on every channel.

Footages of what happened at the stadium was on replay. Someone even managed to capture the explosion of the VIP room from their phone. Jumbo screen and everyone at the stadium captured the death of Dr. Pavel and the speech from the terrorist. 

“...It is currently trending on all social media platforms...” The reporter spoke as if it matters, but then this fashionable reporter was safely away from the chaos of Gotham. The ones from Gotham looked as haggard as he does.

“My god…” Gordon mumbled as he stepped around the couch and heavily sat down. Shock does take a toll on a person, especially ones that had to leave a hospital so abruptly as they had.

Blake slid the safety on before he set the shotgun against the couch. His eyes flickered to the TV and then quietly retreated to his bedroom. He dug into his pocket and checked his phone. Glaring at him from his cracked screen were twelve missed calls; seven came from Father Reilly and five from an unknown number.

He dialed the unknown number and listened to the rings till someone answer. In the background he heard several kids crying and Father Reilly directing someone. There were also other kids (older probably) that were shouting and asking “What’s going on?” and “What happened?”

“Blake?” Jason’s voice asked, sounding strain. “Holy shit, what is going on?”

“Is that John?” Tim piped in. “Is John ok?”

“Tell Tim I’m ok.” Blake said. “Are you guys all right?”

“The whole building started to shake. We thought it was an earthquake but then the volunteers and Father Reilly told us to come inside.” Jason said. “They won't tell us anything and they won't even let us step outside.”

“It’s better that way.” Blake assured.

“What is going on?” Jason asked again, insistently.

For a moment, Blake thought about lying to him but instead let out a sigh. “Something bad.” Blake said, “Really bad. I need you and the older kids help with the younger ones, yeah?” 

“Are you going to come by?” Jason asked.

“I’ll try,” He said and he meant it but… “But not right now.” 

“Oh...ok.” Jason did his best not to sound disheartened. “Crap, I think the guy notices his phone is missing,” Jason said. “I got to go.” The kid quickly hung up. 

Blake closed his as he felt his head throbbed. His body was so tired… he looked down at his phone and quickly text to Father Reilly, ‘I’ll call you when everything calms down’

‘Ok. Take care of yourself, Blake.’ Father Reilly replied.

Blake pocketed his phone. His eyes narrowed as he looked at his hands. Just when he was getting over his injuries, he earned fresh bruises and cuts. He shrugged out of his jacket and checked of rest of himself. Thankfully, most of it was scrapes and bruises, nothing dire. He dragged himself to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet and then returned to the living room in time to hear the resounding voice their assailant: Bane.

“Is it as bad as it appears?” He asked as he took a seat next to the Commissioner. He set the first aid kit onto the coffee table.

“Its worst.” Gordon sighed as Bane and his goons took over the screen.

Blake looked up from the first aid kit and stared at the image. It was surreal to see the large man stood front and center in broad daylight. Half of his face was covered with the mask that made his scarred knuckles ache. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed that his battered brain didn’t made up Bane’s massive built and presence. 

“Blake-” 

Blake blinked and turned to Gordon. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking how you were doing.’” Gordon repeated, looking at him a bit too closely.

“Besides feeling the downside to an adrenaline rush, I’m all right.” Blake lied then focussed his attention on patching himself up. His dark eyes flickered toward the older man’s inner arm, where he knew the IV was hooked up. “How about you sir?”

“Honestly, this all feels a bit too familiar...” Gordon turned his head toward the small screen. “Never thought we’ll be at the mercy of another psychopath.” 

_Except this time, Batman might not be able to swoop in and save the day…_ Blake swallowed down the stone of truth and felt it weighed heavy in his gut. “This guy isn’t like the Joker.”

“Why do you say that?” Gordon asked.

“He blew up Gotham. Destroyed all means of escape except for one bridge. He also buried more than half of the GCPD.” Blake pointed out and then gestured to the TV as the reporter begun to play the distress calls from the trapped officers. “But they’re still alive.” His eyes lowered. “If this was the Joker, then he would’ve killed the cops outright or gassed them till they kill each other. Same goes to the bridge. He would incite panic by telling people to run and let them tear each other apart in their escape before he destroys the bridge itself.” He turned to Gordon. “ _This_ guy is a zealot. He’s dedicated to his employer’s plan.” 

“You still believe he’s not calling the shots?” Gordon asked. 

“I think someone else is pulling the strings--” A loud, sharp bang sliced through his words and snapped both officers’ attention toward the front door. 

A deafening stillness settled in the air till the door rattled on its hinges by the persistent pounding of someone’s fist. “Come out, come out little piggy. We know you’re in there.” A slimy voice sneered. 

Gordon took out his handgun and Blake slowly climbed off the couch. His eyes remained glued to the door as he carefully tread on the hardwood floor. He reached blindly and wrapped his fingers around the neck before he lifted the shotgun. Nerves jumped as the pounding persisted. 

“If you know what’s good for you, then you would let us in.” That slimy voice demanded. 

“For fuck sake, Ric, are you even sure this is the place?” A second voice asked in a stage whisper. “This place is a dump.”

“Billy said that pig-headed in this direction and you saw the car.” The first guy replied, his voice sounded more average than slimy now. 

“Billy describes it as a black car. Have you seen how many black cars we pass? Besides, didn’t he had his head bashed in back at the hospital?” The second man countered. 

“You know what,” The first guy said, sounding a bit fed up now. “Why don't we breakdown the door and see if Billy is telling the truth or not.” 

Blake slowly raised his shotgun and aimed at the door. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he rest his thumb over the safety. 

“And what? Piss off the big guy some more?” The other man snapped. “He told us that no civie gets hurt today.” 

“Unless they’re a cop.” The first talker insisted. “And there could be a copper right here!” He pounded at the door.

“What the fuck!?” A third voice spilled out and sent a burst of adrenaline through Blake’s veins. “I swear to god, why is it so hard to get some fucking sleep around here!?” Muffled through Blake’s door, he heard his neighbor’s door swung open. His nerves twitched at the sound of gun’s hammer.

“Get back into your apartment. We’re only interested in pigs.” The first man, Ric, said.

“Pigs?” Blake could hear his neighbor scoff. “In this shit hole? Hate to break it to you two, but the bars on the windows ain’t a fucking Christmas decoration.”

“If you don’t get back into your apartment--” 

“You saying there isn’t a cop around here?” The second speaker interrupted.

“I’m saying if there were, then that cop gotta be a dumb as shit if they think they’re welcome here.” The neighbor replied. “Now stop pounding on the goddamn door. Today is fucking crazy as is and I need some damn sleep.” 

“You could be lying.” Ric sneered.

“Or he has a point. This is Asbestos Town after all and so far we haven’t seen one damn cop in this building.” The other man let out an irritated sigh. “Let’s go before we get into deeper shit.” 

“But--” Ric started.

“But nothing.” The second guy snapped again. “We wasted enough time here, Ric. We also broke the boss man’s orders when we broke in the other apartments--which we got nothing to show for it. I don’t plan to be used as an example like Roger was when he thought it was a good idea to bring Gordon to Bane. If you want to carry on because of what Billy said, then be my guest. I’m out of here.” With that came the sound of heavy boots stomping down the hall. It took a few seconds before a second set of footsteps followed suit. 

Blake stayed where he was, his ears straining as he listened to the heavy footfalls descend the creaking the stairs. He let out a trembling breath, cast a cautious look toward Gordon before approaching his door. He peered through the peephole and saw his neighbor staring in the direction where the two men went. The neighbor turned back around and for a brief second, their gaze met or at least his neighbor’s lingered on the peephole before he disappeared behind a closed door. 

Blake sighed and rested his forehead against the door. “They’re gone.” 

“That third guy…?” Gordon frowned.

“Is a neighbor.” He said and stepped away from the door. “Don’t worry about him. We have more important things that we need to do, right?” He looked at Gordon with a weary look.

Gordon looked like he wanted to argue but instead nodded. “Do you have your radio, son?”

“Not my main one but I do have my shitty backup radio and a scanner.” He said as he headed to the room. He didn’t want to think about how close they came to being found. Freaking out wasn’t going to help them and without the Batman, they only have themselves.

He snatched the scanner, his older beat up radio and a map of the sewers before he headed back to the living room. Now was the time for work.

\-----

The final truck rolled out onto the road with it’s own security unit. There were five in total, with only one carrying the nuclear bomb. They wanted Gotham to know they were serious and wanted to keep them on the very edge. Even now, you could almost taste the fear in the air. Daggett’s men relished it. Bane was indifferent to it. After delivering the final orders to his men, Bane retreated to their newfound base at Wayne Enterprises’ warehouse. He walked down the open space as his men prepared the tanks and seized weapons from the shelves. All were high grade and state of the art…

...Perhaps a camera should be installed to show Bruce just how grateful the League of Shadows was to receive such fine gifts...

He opened the door to one of the few offices and spotted his second in command. The deadpanned sniper stood in front of a large computer with several monitors playing a different feed all at once. “Is everything in order?” He asked as he approached the other man. 

“It is going as well as one would expect.” Barsad reported, sparing him a sidelong look. 

Bane gave a slow nod and then allowed his eyes roamed over the many screens. Some displayed the latest news report about the attack on Gotham, while others display live security feed from buildings and streets. There were a few that viewed into the homes of fellow Gothamites through the cameras on their laptops and phones. “By now the U.S. Military would be preparing their men as soon as possible.” He stated calmly. “I want you to meet them with our demands.”

“Is that all?” Barsad drawled, “That shouldn’t take too long.”

“You aren’t one to idle.” Bane agreed, sounding almost amused. “Blackgate Prison...”

“Is untampered for now. The same can be said about Arkham Asylum.” Barsad assured. “Your bird on the other hand...He turned out to have more bite than I thought he would.” He tapped on the keys and the center monitor changed from the news to a grainy security feed that was taken from across the street of one Daggett’s construction sites. On the top right corner, Bane witnessed the altercation unfolded that left two men unconscious and one dead. None of which was his bird. His bird, oh, his bird flew from the scene as soon as he realized what they were up to… 

“Is there more?” Bane asked. Barsad tapped a few more commands and the video begun to play from the street cams as the officer sped down the streets till an eruption sent the car spiraling through the air. Much to his surprise, even that didn’t stop the cop from his goal. Battered but not dead, the young officer dragged himself out of the wreckage and proceeded to the hospital. The last video was taken from the hospital’s parking lot, where the officer left with Gordon. 

“He’s like a cat with nine lives,” Barsad remarked and then lifted his gaze to Bane. He tapped on the keys to extend the video from the hospital where two men jumped into a car and proceeded after the officers. “A couple of Daggett’s men felt compelled to prove themselves to you and went after them.” 

Bane was not surprised. They were not as discipline as the League of Shadows. They do not understand the bigger picture and that was fine. They will all serve their purpose in the end… 

He reached down to the console and brought up the first security video. He rewinds to the altercation and zoomed in on the officer’s face right when the muzzle flash began to fade. He cut back the speed and focussed on the man’s face to see the officer’s relief be consumed by shame of what he did to survive. “Has there been any reports since then?”

“None,” Barsad replied, pointedly ignoring how focussed Bane’s eyes were on the officer. “Though, they should be returning soon for tonight’s meeting.” 

“Good.” Bane closed the video. 

“Do you want me to check if they manage to nab your bird?” Barsad inquired. 

“No need.” Bane said, “If he died by Daggett’s men after surviving this long, then he wasn’t as resilient as I thought.” _Which would be a shame…_ Bane finally turned away from the map and looked to his second in command. “Come, there’s much more we need to prepare now that we have the nation’s attention. We wouldn’t want this opportunity to be wasted.”

“Of course,” Barsad agree. They do need to prepare for the next step of their plan after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Mother's Day and Early Memorial Day. This chapter took a bit longer than expected but hopefully just as enjoyable. I hope you have fun and take care.


	7. Tin Cans and a String

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a broken Gotham, communication to the outside world was hard. What was more difficult was trying to gain communication with the people who were being hunted.

With a broken Gotham, communication to the outside world was hard. What was more difficult was trying to gain communication with the people who were being hunted. Carrying a badge was a proof of trust but was also a death sentence. To be out and about as they were, they were both taking a risk. 

His eyes scampered along the darkened, empty streets before him. This was a rare occurrence in Gotham, even at this hour. Normally, there would be some sort of activity (legal and/or illegal). Not even the Dent Act could keep the night owls at bay. To see the streets so deserted, well, that unnerved him. Any life that they exhibited before was smothered by the growing tension that was building all around them. It was a fear that they all shared, especially knowing that they were on their own. 

_And they were on their own._

“Stop,” He muttered to himself and dragged his eyes back to his radio and then fiddled with the knob some more. The Batman may not be able to help them but they were far from helpless. If they were useless, then they wouldn’t be putting their life on the line as they were, especially when they knew that Bane’s men were on the move. 

Just as the terrorist had stated, the bomb was mobile. They nearly crossed their path on their way to Gordon’s home. It was a large, military-grade, armored truck that was escorted with men (on foot and in vehicles). Its presence was just as intimidating as the masked mercenary. Adding to that layer of intimidation was the fact that they spotted a second one going in the opposite direction. It was almost identical to the first: the same armored car, the same number escorting footmen and vehicles. Nothing about it said that this was any different from the other. Nor did either of them indicated that they were the only armored cars that were roaming the city. This meant that they needed more allies if they want to keep track of all these moving pieces or hope that the military will come to their aid. 

Either way, it was going to be an uphill battle. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head hard enough that his brain rattled in his skull. The exhaustion from earlier urged him to sleep but he can’t rest yet. Not when he needed to be Gordon’s eyes while Gordon retrieved some of his items. After this, they would retreat to Blake’s apartment--maybe get some shut-eye--and plan out their next move. 

Right now, he needed to be awake and hope the backup radio wasn’t being the piece of shit that it was. For most part, it wasn’t that bad per se. It just keeps dropping the line, which makes it difficult to retrieve any information when you want to. After dealing with this nonsense throughout the academy, it gets old fast. 

He grimaced as the crackling grew louder while he changed the frequency and channels. So far, he went through all main emergency channels, which turned out to be pointless. All he heard was the repeated message from the government assuring that help was on the way. After that, he checked the GCPD emergency line and was greeted with an eerie silence that sent chills down his spine. When they left his apartment earlier, they did not attempt to approach the GCPD precinct even though there would be supplies. They never verbally said it, but they both feared that the worst had occurred. For him to hear nothing but the silence through the radio seemed to confirm their hunch. 

He shifted his focus toward the more obscure lines that truckers’ used in the past. It was a gamble and honestly, he doubted he’ll find anyone but it was better than nothing. Thankfully, it was more than nothing.

“--11-99… Is anyone out there?” A voice pleaded between then static. 

Blake sat up immediately and turned the dial carefully to adjust the frequency. The static began to fade into the background as the voice piped up again, “Hello? Is anyone out there?” It was clearer now, so much so that Blake could hear the rasp of exhaustion in the man’s voice.

He pressed down on the button and then brought the radio to his mouth. 

“Yes, yes.” He answered. “Who am I talking to right now?”

“Off--” The static surged again before it faded away. “Officer Williams, East District,” Williams answered. “Who is this?” 

“Officer Blake, Central.” Blake replied and felt his smile grew. 

“Oh thank god.” Williams sighed in relief. “I was worried that every officer is down here with us.”

“No,” He shook his head, forgetting that the officer couldn’t see him. “No. There are still some friendlies around.” They just needed to find them. 

“How many?” Williams asked. “Is it enough to kick these bastards’ ass?” Blake could hear the stirring in the background as more officers became alert to their talk. 

“Enough to make them hurt.” Blake lied. He didn’t know how their numbers look and part him wasn’t ready to know that reality just yet. “How does it look down there?”

“It looks--” Williams’ voice was cut off as the static swallowed it whole. 

“Fuck,” Blake hissed and then he quickly re-adjusted the dial to search for the frequency. “Come on, come on…” He growled to his defiant device. 

“-Ake? Blake you there?” It wasn’t Williams’ voice this time. Instead, it was someone whom Blake recognized all too well. 

“Ross?” Blake said in both disbelief and relief. 

“Who else?” Ross let out an airy laugh, “Jeezus christ, Williams said you cut off for a moment. Don’t tell me you’re using that shitty radio.” 

“It’s the only one I have right now.” Blake said. 

“Can’t pick up one from the precinct?” Ross inquired. 

“Off limits.” Blake replied. 

“Shit…” Ross cursed. “You still got my keys right? You can swing by my place and grab my spare.”

“Thanks--” Blake started when the radio fizzled out again. With a curse and some prayers to the gods, he found the line again. “How is it down there?” 

“Shitty. I got no idea how you manage to deal with the smell for so long.” Ross groused half-heartedly. “How is it topside?” 

“Just as shitty, only without the smell.” Blake replied. “Is there anyone injured down there?” 

“Some injuries. Some were buried in the explosion.” Ross said, “But it looks like the majority of us are still kicking, except we’re trap. And before you asked, the explosion cut off all connecting routes. We’re sitting ducks down here.” 

_Of course, he wouldn’t let the cops roam the sewers without a leash..._ “Do you still have the map that I gave you?” Blake asked. 

“I d-” Ross cut off and again and Blake scrambled with the dial. “I swear to god you need to find a better radio.” Ross harped. 

“I will. I promise, otherwise this stupid thing will drive me insane.” Blake swore. “What did you said earlier?”

“I do have the map. Not sure how it’ll help me.” Ross said. 

“It could help me find you guys.” Blake explained. 

“You know they’re probably watching our location.” Ross warned.

“I’ll find a way,” Blake promised. “Besides that, I need you to talk to the other guys. See if they know any officers that didn’t go down into the tunnels. I’ll contact them and maybe we could regroup.” His eyes flickered toward a movement from the corner of his eyes to see Gordon coming down the steps with a duffle bag. 

“Will do.” Ross reported. “Keep us posted, will ya? Some of us still have our cells but the batteries are probably going to die before morning.”

“I promise.” Blake assured, “Look I got to go. You guys stay strong down there, help will come.” 

“I hope when that happened, they bring us one of those portable shower stalls with clean water. At this moment, I would kill for a decent shower.” Ross huffed tiredly. “Keep an eye on your phone, ok? Messages should be heading your way soon enough. Also, take car--” The line cut off again but this time Blake didn’t bother in trying to reconnect. He reached over and unlocked the door for Gordon. He took the duffle back and quickly shoved it into the backseat. 

“Was that our men?” Gordon inquired as he stepped into the car and buckled up. 

“Yup.” Blake confirmed and started the engine. “They are as stubborn as ever. My partner will reach out again with information. Any chance you managed to find your radio?” 

“Yes.” Gordon said, “We can use it as our main communication line for the outside.”

“And I know where we could find a second one.” Blake pulled out from the sidewalk and started down the street. “That way we’ll have ears inside and outside of Gotham.”

“Do we have time?” Gordon inquired.

Blake gave a curt nod. “We should. If anything, I don’t think Ross would mind if we hunker down in his home.” Especially with the morning quickly approaching. Neither of them wanted to be out in broad daylight. “We could make base there instead of heading back to mine.”

“Sounds good, son.” Gordon rested heavily against the seat and gaze out toward the city. His expression turned a bit somber with a stubborn frown on his face. His mind seemed to be a million miles away. “In your honest opinion, Rookie, how does our odds look.”

“It looks like we’re climbing Everest during the middle of a snowstorm.” Blake said, keeping his eyes on the road. “It doesn’t look good but it’s not impossible.”

A smile curved on the older man’s lips. “That’s one way of putting it.” He exhaled loudly. “I hope you’re right about our odds.”

“I hope so too.” Blake confessed as they drove quietly to Ross’s apartment. 

\-----

Down in the solitude of the sewers, a radio crackled noisily on top of a crate before a large hand reached over and switched it off. Gray-blue eyes lingered on the official GCPD radio, the very one that the officer abandoned in the sewers. Next to it, was a bundle of folded papers. 

So, it seemed that his bird was alive and well. It meant that Daggett’s men were telling the truth, but you could never be too sure of the words from desperate men… 

It was a good thing that they were no longer his concern. Not anymore. 

His bird, on the other hand, had excel all of his expectations. It could be pure recklessness that spurred the officer into action. It would explain why he ventured out onto the streets while knowing his kin was not (and will not be) welcomed anymore. Yet there was so much more to that which made the officer different from the others. Bane could not help but be intrigued by it. How could he not when the man was so fascinating...

_And dangerous._

“You don’t seem concern that he made contact with the other officers.” Barsad quipped as he took a seat on neighboring crate next to Bane. He offered the larger man some of their ration, which Bane accepted. 

“Why would I be concern over that?” He set the food down to loosen his mask. He inhaled the numbing fumes one more time before he let the mask hung loosely from the straps. Even with his scarred face bared to the damp air, he felt nothing. He could not even feel the cool draft against his skin or taste the filth of the air. He was not privy to such luxury ever since he chose a life without pain. 

Diligently and quickly, he ate his fill while the amnestic ran its course. By the time he finished, he could feel the pain starting to nip at the very edge of his nerves. Before it barreled through every fiber of his being, he secured the mask in place and breathed in. 

Barsad blatantly ignored it. Ever since he worked with Bane, there were things he learned to pay attention to and things you ignore. This was one of the latter. The fact he doesn’t pry for useless information was probably how he earned his place and Bane’s trust. “You know, he and Gordon could create a problem for us.” He remarked. 

“Perhaps.” Bane replied, a bit nonchalantly. His eyes wandered back toward the radio. 

“You don’t think so?” Barsad asked. 

“They will try to raise their army and they will resist our cause but we are prepared for that.” Bane spoke with the utmost certainty. They are holding the full deck after all. “So no, I don’t see this as a problem. If anything, they are doing what we want them to do.” He turned Barsad. “They are bringing hope for those that don’t deserve it and there is nothing more agonizing to a man than hope.”

He reached out and took the folded papers near the radio. All across the paper were the printed, neat words of Commissioner Gordon’s confession.

 _How would you react when you find out that the man you’re helping is fraud?_ He wondered. Would that be the final weight that snaps his bird’s wings? 

_No._ A voice whispered in his mind and reminded him of what he saw in the sewers, how the officer reacted when he found the broken mask of the city’s savior. That didn’t break his little bird. He doubted that Gordon’s confession would. 

But all men had their limits. 

His hands closed around the paper, making it crinkled in his hold. 

_What are your limits, Officer Blake?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are taking the time to read this story, thank you. I do hope that you all enjoy this story. 
> 
> Have a lovely weekend.


	8. Home Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody in Gotham was ever clean. Not even their heroes.

The morning started with a shockwave that rocked Gotham City and the rest of the nation like a bomb. On every channel and radio station, the world heard the written confession of the once honorable Commissioner James Gordon and the truth of the Dent Act.

Blake wished that he shared their sentiment, but he wasn’t fortunate enough to have that feeling. Instead, he felt the cold embrace of reality. Nobody in Gotham was ever clean. Not even their heroes. Yet, despite it, he still hoped for the better. He wouldn’t stop hoping for the better. 

He looked at the older man, meeting his defensive gaze and then turned away to resume his packing. “As I was saying, Bane and his men would be looking for you. It would be unwise to keep you in one place for too long. I’ve reached out to Hansen. He’ll meet us at the drop off point.” He zipped up the bag and noticed that Gordon was still looking at him. “Commissioner?” 

That snapped Gordon from his guilt. “You’re right.” He got up to grab the remainder of his things. “What about you though? I’m not the only one that they’re hunting.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Blake assured with a wry smile. “I’m used to shitty situations.” He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and grabbed the shotgun. “Ready?”

Gordon holstered his gun and grabbed his jacket. “It’ll be crazy out there.” He warned as he headed for the door.

Blake followed after him. “I know.”

The building frustration between the social classes was nothing new or a surprise. The tension had been on the constant edge of boiling over for years. Bane merely took the lid off and cranked up the heat. He gave freedom without repercussion to a population that had long been ignored and discriminated. It was a dangerous combination but it also provided them a morbid cover.

Blake avoided the main streets in favor of the smaller ones. It made the silent journey uncomfortably long but they were less likely to run into a mob of angry citizens. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Diamond District was overrun with them--his eyes widened as his hands tightened around the wheel. 

Alfred.

It took effort to swallow his nerves and resisted the urge to turn around and step on the gas. If he gave into that compulsion, then he might as well stick a bow on Gordon and deliver the commissioner straight to Bane. He had a job to do and he cannot jeopardize that even if it meant the cost of another’s life. He stuck to the plan but allowed his mind to map out the quickest route to Mr. Pennyworth’s home. 

“Officer,” Blake pulled himself from his thoughts and gave Gordon a sidelong look. “Thank you for helping me.”

His brows furrowed and returned his attention to the streets. “You’re welcome, Sir, but I gotta remind you that this isn’t over just yet.”

Gordon nodded with a wry smile. “I know.” 

It took two more turns and down a seedy alley before they met up with Hansen and parted ways. He wasted no time as he began the weaving through the routes that led to Alfred’s. It took twice the effort to resist the urge to use the main roads. If he had taken them, then he would’ve reached his destination in half the time but that doesn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be stopped or yanked out of his vehicle. The fact that he could hear the desperate screams from here--away from the attacks--underlined why he shouldn’t bother with those roads. 

He gritted his teeth in frustration. He wanted to help those people. He **should** help them but instead he kept his eyes forward and kept the car going. 

The fact was that he can’t save everyone.

He blindly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Keeping his eyes were on the road, he speed-dialed the priest and set it on speaker. It range thrice before the line was picked up, “Father Reilly?” 

“Blake?” Father Reilly sounded like he didn’t sleep for days. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?” 

“No, nothing--” He stopped himself. “Nothing happened to me.” He rephrased. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re not letting any of the kids outside.”

“Yes. We saw the news and ushered the kids indoors. Some of the volunteers…” Father Reilly trailed off and Blake could swear he felt his teeth crack beneath the tension of his jaw. 

They left. They left the Father understaffed with a building full of scared children. He can’t blame the volunteers for leaving. At the moment it was a complete shit storm. Who wouldn’t want to just go home?

Blake forced out a breath between his clenched teeth. “I’ll be there as soon as I wrap things up here.” 

“Please, try not to be too hasty.” Father Reilly pleaded. “As I said earlier, we saw the news. We saw what occurred… You need to be careful, Blake.” 

“I know.” Blake agreed as he made a turn at the lights. “It’s a good thing that I lost my badge, right?” He tried to sound positive but his voice was strained. “Look, I’ll try not to be my dumbass self out here, all right?” 

“Ok…” Father Reilly, knowing that was the most that Blake could do. 

Blake made one more turn at a corner and saw the familiar townhomes. “I’ll call you when I’m closer to the orphanage.”

“I’ll see you then, Blake. Take care of yourself.” Father Reilly said before he hung up. 

Blake slowed the car to a crawl as he took in the neighborhood. To say that it was a mess was an understatement. It was like all the houses had vomited their contents onto the streets. The cars on the street were broken or stripped. One was screaming to no one and that reality unnerved him.

It was still daylight for christ's sake and yet there was nobody around the neighborhood. There was no doubt in his mind that the mob had hit this area. The residents might have had ran off in fear of their anger and since the mob had nobody to prey on, they moved on as well. 

_That didn’t mean that the houses were empty._

He slid the car between two buildings, using their shadows for cover. He killed the engine and then adjusted the rearview mirror to see what laid behind him. From the small mirror, he saw Alfred’s home as well as his neighbor’s. His eyes drifted toward the backseat, where the shotgun waited for him. His fingers twitched around the wheel. He glanced back at the reflection one more time. 

“Fuck.” He groused and then grabbed the gun. With quick decisive motions, he opened the chamber, removed the shells and stepped out of the car. He proceeded toward the back where he unlocked the trunk and set the ammo-less weapon inside before locking up. 

Yes, he was going to enter an unknown territory without backup or a weapon. This was beyond stupid but he was not about to risk another person’s life just because they were hopped up on adrenaline and a mob mentality. He had enough bodies under his name. 

Carefully, he checked the roads and quickly crossed the street. He passed the blaring car, climbed the steps and approached the same sturdy door that he saw before when he approached Alfred the first time. This time, though, it was barely hanging on to its hinges. He stepped closer and listened carefully before he slowly pushed the door open till it rested against a closet (or maybe a bathroom?) and then peered inside.

The place was gutted. Anything valuable was probably taken and those that was remained was in shambles. Furnitures were knocked over and slashed open so that their stuffings joined the books that covered the floor. Speaking of the floors, there was a gaping hole off to the side where the boards were ripped apart. The walls were even torn open with their pipes bared for all to see. He eyed one of the larger holes inquisitively. 

_...For the copper pipes, maybe?_ His brows furrowed and took in the rest of the scene. He stepped around the fallen couch and felt the wooden boards creaked under his weight. 

A sudden feeling washed over him that made the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He smothered his breath as he slowly lowered to the floor and wrapped his fingers around the first thing in reach: a wimpy, broken piece of the floorboards. He stared ahead before he whipped around, the wood held high above his head, ready to strike--at nothing. 

His brows furrowed as he stared at the gaping entranceway. Keeping the flimsy board, he walked back and closed the door. His eyes flickered toward the spot where the front door rested again. Another door hung loosely by its hinges at a skew angle, giving the slightest view of the bathroom behind it. He peered through the gaps and then turned away. The room look tiny and was in complete disarray. There was no point in investigating any further. 

He proceeded through the living room and poke his head into the kitchen. His eyes flickered toward the doorless exit that led into the backyard.

 _Well, if I need a quick exit…_ he noted to himself then turned his attention to the stairway that led to the second floor. He adjusted his grip around the board as he started his trek up the stairs. 

The second floor had endured the same abuse as the first. The bathroom was a wreck with it's light fixture sporadically flickering as if this was a club instead of being someone’s home. The medicine cabinet was opened with empty prescription bottles in the sink. 

He tore his eyes away and then checked the other rooms. The office had more papers on the ground than floorboards. The guest room didn’t have much but received similar treatment. The master room…

Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked onto the crime scene. The bed was knocked off its post and was shredded like the couch. The main window that overlook the street was shattered. Valuables were taken while clothes and other personal items littered the floor like trash. Among them were photographs and broken frames. 

Blake kneeled to the floor, next to a damaged dresser and pick up a photograph that caught his eye. The image was a small family of three: a young couple with their son outside of the Wayne Manor. 

His eyes darted across the floor as he set the photo down to pick up another. This one was aged with a heavy crease that cut the photo into four squares. It was a group of young men in uniform in some foreign land, a troop. He bit on his bottom lip and slowly set the photo among the others. 

It was depressing to see someone’s home in shambles. Worst was to see something so personal discarded as if it was nothing but garbage. Yet, despite all of that, he could not help but feel the sense of relief washed over him. 

There wasn’t any bodies or bloodstains anywhere in the home. Maybe Alfred wasn’t here when it happened. 

_Or he was kidnapped._

_But again, no blood. With this much disregard for the man’s things, they wouldn’t take it easy on him. **He** wouldn’t have taken it easy on them. Especially a man of the uniform_\--his brain short-circuited when a sudden crash came from downstairs.

He froze where he was and stared hard at the floor. Faintly, he could hear the sound of heavy boots. Lots of them. 

“Boss!” Someone called out, “So the guy wasn’t hiding at his neighbors and trust me, we checked them all. It seems like he went on a ‘holiday’.” The guy quipped with a half-assed attempt to the British accent. “They could be bullshitting us. Do you want us to keep trying to find this butler?” 

_Alfred. He was ok. He was safe._ Now, if only he could apply that statement for himself.

He frowned a little as his brows furrowed at the sudden silence. There was no response to the man’s inquiries. There was hardly any sound at all. His heart jumped in his chest as his head snapped toward the gaping doorway to the master room. 

“Fuck,” he quietly and quickly crossed the short distance. He grabbed the door and peered outward. He could see the crest of one of the men’s head and carefully close the door to leave just a sliver of space to observed. 

The men were carrying assault rifles and moved with very little experience. They did not spread out to cover the whole floor. Instead, they kept to a tight pack and started snooping around the office since it was the closest room to the stairs. 

His dark eyes darted from them to the open guest room across from him. He glanced back at the men, waiting till their backs were to him before opening the door just a little bit wider. With one more glance toward the intruders, he chucked the flimsy board into the guest room and quickly but carefully close the door. He heard a shout and then hail of gunfire. He whipped around and rushed for the broken window. He didn’t even bother to try to hide his hurried steps. Their gunshots did that for him. 

He swiped away the shards from the window frame and climb out of the room. The remaining pieces bit into his palms, creating shallow streams of blood to trickle underneath his sleeves. He looked over his shoulder, toward the road and then down below at the bushes. He shot prayer to whatever god that was listening and then let go. 

The fall was far from graceful. It was hard and rough, that left him stumbling out of the bushes on shaky legs. He bolted--as best he could--for the street when he heard the gunshot. He felt the bullet zipped past the side of his face, sending a jolt of adrenaline through his blood. He ducked but not before a burning, wet sensation erupted from the side of his right shoulder. 

He didn’t slow down though. Through the pain, his feet pounded hard on the asphalt before he threw himself behind a building just as two more bullets embedded themselves into the wall. He staggered toward his car, constantly glancing behind him. He yanked opened the door and wasted no time in hitting the gas and peeled out of that warzone.

\-----

Barsad lowered his gun and watched as the car sped off. The corner of his lips twitched in amusement before it faded at the sound of the men’s hurried steps, along with their curses.

“Fuck. We can go after him, boss.” The Loud Mouth said and Barsad felt his annoyance grow inside of him.

“What’s the point?” He inquired and turned around to face the man that scared Bane’s bird away. 

“To teach him a lesson.” The Loud Mouth tried to explain. “What he saw--”

“Is a couple men with guns. Something he didn’t have.” Barsad retorted. “So again, why waste our time on him?”

Loud Mouth shut his mouth. 

“Exactly.” He nodded toward the door. “Get the cars ready. We are expected to be back at the base.” 

Loud Mouth and the rest grunted. They hurried out of the broken home in search of their hidden vehicles. It gave Barsad a moment of peace. It was unfortunate that the butler wasn’t around. He knew this increased the chance that the Heir will throw a bitch fit. 

He grimaced at the thought and glance back to the direction where the bird flew. Bane would want to know what the little bird was up to. Perhaps, he may know why the cop would visit the butler. He had to admit, he was a bit curious about that. 

His eyes flickered toward the front window to see the cars pulled up against the sidewalk. With one more fleeting glance to the side, he started to make his way back to the men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again. This trek on getting them in the same scene is getting longer and longer @_@ My apologies. They will meet... in a few chapters... cross your fingers. 
> 
> Until then, I do hope you continue reading the story!


	9. The Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake drove and drove, till the sun was setting and Gotham was blanketed in shadows. He was exhausted from his near-death experience but he couldn’t stop. His wrapped hands ached around the wheel as he turned a familiar corner. In front of him was the building where he spent a good portion of his youth: St. Swithin Orphanage. It was dreary in appearance and badly needed a renovation, but it was good enough to housed the misfortune boys of Gotham City.

Blake drove and drove, till the sun was setting and Gotham was blanketed in shadows. He was exhausted from his near-death experience but he couldn’t stop. His wrapped hands ached around the wheel as he turned a familiar corner. In front of him was the building where he spent a good portion of his youth: St. Swithin Orphanage. It was dreary in appearance and badly needed a renovation, but it was good enough to housed the misfortune boys of Gotham City. 

He parked the car a few blocks away and walked back to the building. His eyes constantly darted from one corner to the other, searching for any signs of movement. His eyes then climbed up toward the looming, neighboring buildings. Before all of this, each of those dark buildings would’ve been lit up on every floor. Now, there were only a handful that stayed barely lit. 

He continued his trek down the sidewalk and passed the familiar gate. There he crossed the cement pathway, up the short steps to the familiar front door. He surveyed the area one more time for any unwanted guest before he knocked on the door. 

As he waited, his eyes roamed the immediate area. From what it looked like, the orphanage was untouched by all that occurred but that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. Things were desperate now and desperate people will do desperate things to survive. That meant he would need to make sure they reinforce the fence that lined around the building. Any level of defense would help. 

The door creaked behind him. Quickly, he turned around to see the surprised look on the volunteer’s face. “Blake.” She gasped and opened the door a little wider.

“Hey Susan,” He greeted with his best smile. “Is Father Reilly in?”

“Yeah, he is--oh my god you’re bleeding.” Her eyes grew wide as saucers as she stared at his wrapped hands and injured shoulder. 

“Yeah…” He looked a little sheepish. “I might need the first aid kit too...”

“Right, right… Follow me.” she scurried ahead, “Father Reilly should be in his room.” 

Blake shut the door and quietly followed after her. “How's the fort?” He gave the area a once over. Some kids were darting here and there. Some seemed far too familiar that Blake had to slow his steps to have a better look.

“The fort is holding.” Susan said and spared him a sidelong look. She worried her bottom lip. “Is it… What the news said, was it true?” She started up the stairs. 

Blake’s gaze drifted back to Susan and saw the worry on her face. He swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” He lied. 

Susan looked at him a moment longer and then looked away. “I hope it’s not true.” 

Blake didn’t comment any further. Instead, he let the conversation fell silent as they walked up the stairs. Once they stepped off the final step, they made their way down the familiar hallways and passed the kids’ rooms. Blake noticed more kids--older kids--laying on the floor in a makeshift bed made out of worn sheets and bundled up old jackets for pillows. 

Susan knocked on the door and opened it for the aged priest. “Father Reilly, Blake is here.”

The Father quickly got up and approached them. Almost immediately, his enthusiasm twisted into a mixture of concern and a touch of exasperation. If the situation wasn’t so serious (and if he wasn’t hurt) then Blake would’ve laughed.

“It looks worse than it is.” He tried to assure but Father Reilly didn’t look convinced. 

“I’m going to check on the kids.” Susan commented before making her hasty escape and closed the door behind her. 

The priest let out a frustrated breath as he walked back to his desk and rummaged the drawers for a first aid kit like he had done many times before when Blake was still a brat.

Blake approached the other man and looked around the tiny bedroom slash office. To say that it was tiny was an understatement, the room used to be a storage closet after all. There was barely enough space for a bed, let alone a desk and a bed but the good Father didn’t want any space to be wasted on him.

He smiled a little as he looked through the taped drawings on the wall. Some of them were old and faded while others were bright and new. His eyes drifted from there to the bat that rested against the bed. 

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have a couple of visitors hanging around here.” He commented as he made his way back to the priest before taking a seat next to the desk. 

“Yes,” Father Reilly confirmed and set down the first aid kit onto the table. “Some of the boys showed up soon after the explosion.” 

Blake shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his bloodied sleeve and undid the scrap of cloth that he used as a bandage. The wound was an ugly gash that stretched across the side of his shoulder, which left a horror-esque bloody trail over his tattoo of a fluttering robin that rested right below the injury. As ugly as it appeared, the wound was shallow and the bleeding had slowed down considerably. “See, no big deal.”

“You know, most people would’ve been wise enough to avoid any altercations.” Father Reilly remarked as he took the rubbing alcohol and started to clean up. 

Blake winced at the initial burn but didn’t pull away. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. “After all these years, Father, you should know that I’m not the sort who runs from danger.”

“You’re right.” He agreed, “But you shouldn’t throw your away life so carelessly.” 

“I wasn’t.” Blake retorted, “I was checking on someone I knew… I figured they might be in danger with everything that happened.”

“Another officer?” Father Reilly inquired as he set the bloodied cotton balls aside for bandages. He took Blake’s arm and started to wrap up the ugly gash.

“No… he was a witness for another case.” Blake murmured. His dark eyes lingered on the small pile of the bloodstained cotton balls before it crept to his crudely wrapped hands. “Fortunately, he wasn’t there.”

“But it wasn’t empty either.” Father Reilly pulled away, making sure his work stayed in place before he turned to the first aid kit and fished for a pair of tweezers and more cotton balls. 

Blake slowly unwrapped his right hand and grimaced when he felt the tiny shards moved inside his palms. This was more nasty looking than the bullet wound. It was dripping more freely thanks to the pieces of glass that he couldn’t take out on his own. “No, it wasn’t.”

The Father clucked his tongue and started to work the tiny, stubborn pieces out of the officer’s palm. The injury was shallow but it did look like he dipped his hands in a can of red paint. The burn of the rubbing alcohol was more intense since the wounds were many, despite being small. His whole arm gave an involuntarily flinch with every dab of the cotton balls. God, it was only one hand too.

“If you need a fresh shirt, you could find one in the top drawer.” The Father said, his tired eyes never wavered from his work. “The bloodstains would scare the kids.” 

“Thanks.” Blake sighed, “I might take your offer on that.” His jacket was ruined after all and his shirt was worse. “So, what’s the damage here?” 

“Oh you know, too many kids and too little volunteers.” Father Reilly began. There was a total of fifteen reliable volunteers that would help out with the kids. After the explosion, that number was reduced to five, which included the priest and Susan. On top of that, at least twenty former Swithin’s boys had returned to the crowded orphanage. “We even turned the dining room into a sleeping quarter to house those we couldn’t keep in the rooms.” He grabbed the bandage and wrapped up Blake’s hand. 

“And your supplies…?” Blake asked, flexing his fingers a little before he offered his other injured hand. 

“You already know that it’s very slim. Money is tight around here and supplies as are even tighter but we could make it work. We made it work before.” Father Reilly tried to sound confident but there was no disguising the slight tension to his jaw. 

Blake nodded and lowered his gaze. “I’ll see what we can do about supplies and also the fence.” 

“You’ll spread yourself too thin if you try to help everyone.” Father Reilly warned. 

“I know.” Blake relented and hissed at the burn of the alcohol. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.” He smiled. 

Father Reilly shook his head and took the final glass piece from his palm. “You were always a stubborn boy.” He cleaned up the wound and wrapped up his hand. 

“I just like testing my limits.” Blake curled his hands a little before taking the alcohol and some of cotton balls to wipe the bloodstains away of his tattoo. “I’ll be staying the night, so you and the volunteers can get some rest.” 

“You would need at least one other person to make sure everyone is safe.” Father Reilly argued.

“Then I’ll ask Susan to help cover the first floor and then change shifts with you and another volunteer, ok?” Blake said, “You look exhausted, Father. You need your energy. The kids need your energy.”

Father Reilly frowned at him. “It’s terrible that you use the children in your argument.” 

“You would’ve done the same.” Blake flashed him a smile and started to clean up. “Also, I think I’ll be taking that clean shirt. Thank you.”

Once he was more presentable, he stepped out of the Father’s room and started his round to assess the damage first hand. He spoke to the remaining volunteers and set upshifts to keep watch during the evenings in case someone tries to break in. Their weapon selection was meager; a few bats, a dull kitchen knife and a mop. He could leave his gun here in favor of a bat but he would need to make sure that the kids couldn’t get to it and that Father Reilly or one of the volunteers knew how to use it. 

Their other supplies was not too bad. The had a good stock of food in the kitchen. If they rationed it, then they’ll be able to survive a few weeks but how could you explain that to a hungry kid? Then again, how can you explain any of this shit to these kids?

“Get away from him!” A voice shouted from the hall and jerked Blake from his thoughts. He grabbed his bat and hurried over in time to see Jason shoved an older boy away. Behind Jason was Tim and Mark. “It’s because of you, that Jimmy is dead!” 

The other kid was taller than Jason but thinner, not enough food in him to flesh out. His face screwed in annoyance. “It wasn’t our fault that Jimmy died--”

“No, it was your goddamn boss that killed him.” Jason accused, his eyes flashed in anger. “The same guy who is threatening to blow up the city!”

The kid shared Jason’s anger and stepped forward. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Before Jason could retort physically or verbally, Blake wedge himself in. “Hey!” He snapped, forcing them apart. “Back off both of you.” He bared his teeth in emphasis. 

“He started it!” The older kid accused Jason. 

“You were the one who approach Mark!” Jason fired back and pushed against Blake’s hand. 

Blake was having none of it and pushed Jason back more firmly. “Back off.” He stated. 

“But--” Jason begun.

“You’re scaring the other boys.” Blake cut him off and looked passed him to where Mark and Tim watched, wide-eyed and frozen. 

Jason followed his gaze and thankfully looked guilty.

Blake exhaled and looked toward the older boy, recognizing the former Swithin boy as Kirk. “Go back to the room, Kirk.” His voice was softer. “It’s late and all of you guys should be asleep.”

Kirk looked up at him and then down at Jason. Reluctantly, he turned around and retreated to his room but not before muttering, “He didn’t kill Jimmy…” 

Blake’s brows furrowed but then switched his attention to the remaining three boys. “Mark, Timmy, why don’t you guys get back to bed yeah?”

Mark looked troubled but obeyed. He quietly left without a word. Tim followed after him with a look a concern on his face. Blake was a concern too. What did Kirk meant that _He_ didn’t kill Jimmy?

“They shouldn’t be here.” Jason mumbled and peered up at him. “Him especially.” 

“Why do you say that?” Blake inquired. 

“Because Kirk was the one that told the other boys that there was work in the sewers--including Jimmy.” Jason explained.

“But Kirk couldn’t possibly know that Jimmy would’ve been killed.” Blake reasoned. “You know Kirk and don’t act like you don’t. He’s a good guy, with a good head on his shoulders. If he knew how dangerous it was, then he wouldn’t even mention it.”

“Or maybe he just changed.” Jason argued. 

“He seemed the same to me.” Blake retorted. 

“That’s because you don’t know any better.” Jason huffed, his shoulders relaxed as the last of his anger bled away. 

“I may be wrong in many things, but reading people hasn’t been one of them.” Blake pointed out and sighed softly. “I know you are doing your best to watch the younger kids but doing this, getting into fights, is not the way I was talking about.”

“Well, why else would Kirk and the others be here if not trying to scout for more boys.” Jason asked. 

“Because he’s scared, just like you and everyone else here.” Blake said. “And don’t try to deny it.” 

Jason shut his mouth and looked away. “But what if he tries?” 

“Well, you made it clear that you would fight him if he does.” Blake pointed out. 

“What if that’s not enough?” Jason asked. 

“There’s still Father Reilly and the volunteers.” Blake gently reminded him. “You also have a stolen phone to reach me if you think something is wrong.”

“But--” Jason started till a yawn cut him off. 

“But nothing.” He gently nudged Jason. “It’s late and you should be asleep. Stop worrying about the what-ifs. Everything will be fine.” 

“Do you believe that?” Jason watched him carefully. 

“I hope so.” Blake admitted. “Now go on, get some sleep. I’ll probably still be around when you guys wake up.”

“Are you staying?” Jason asked, trying hard not to sound hopeful.

“No,” Blake replied honestly. “I still have a city to save after all.” 

Jason frowned and nodded reluctantly. He took a step toward the room but then stopped. “Blake.” He looked over his shoulder at the officer. “... Are you scared?” 

Blake met his eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

\-----

Two figures stood on the rooftop of a neighboring building. The taller of the two stepped closer toward edge and peered down at St. Swithin.

“He is here.” A raspy, almost mechanical voice inquired, sounding more like a statement than a question.

“Besides ambling around the city, there are only two places where he resides in.” The slighter man drawled, peering up at the taller man from the corner of his eyes. “Or at least that was what report stated. So far it hadn’t been wrong.” He looked back to the building. “There is also Officer Ross’s home but I don’t think your bird would retreat there.” 

“That is not his nest.” Bane exhaled softly. His gray eyes stayed on the old orphanage. “He came from here. It’s not a surprise that he would return to it during a crisis.”

“Some of our workers are here as well.” Barsad reported. “They abandoned their duties as soon as you made your appearance to the world.”

“I am not surprised.” Bane replied, “All they knew and had was the streets and this facility.” His eyes lowered when a flash of light drew his attention. Stepping out of the building was his bird. Flashlight in hand and tools in the other, the officer made his way to the fences. As much as the officer was willing to put his life on the lines of others, it was clear that he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they would return the gesture. “When the supply comes, make sure that this facility isn’t neglected.” 

“Will do.” Barsad nodded. “Any other orders?” He added half-heartedly.

“Yes, I want you to stay and keep watch over him.” Bane said. 

Barsad turned away from the orphanage and looked at Bane confused. “You want me to babysit.” 

“I want an extra eye on him and the others.” Bane said. 

“We have the radio and your bird is not at all subtle in his actions.” Barsad reasoned. 

“But it’s more than luck that kept him alive as long as it has.” Bane looked almost amused as his bird worked on fixing the fence.

“But again--”.

“The Heir is expecting to visit to go over the plans.” Bane cut him off. “I need someone to make sure everything is kept in order.”

Barsad closed his mouth and looked down toward the officer. He grimaced. “Fine. I’ll send you reports about your bird and his whereabouts.” After all, he rather deal with the officer than the bitch. 

“Thank you, brother.” Bane replied then retreated from the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon for the delay, life does gets in the way. For those who continue to read this little story, thank you for taking the time to give this story a chance. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter.


	10. Stake out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stakeouts were a necessity in gathering information. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of the job. It was the dullest point of the job. As a long-time sniper, this action was ninety-eight percent of his occupation. The last two percent was when things get exciting.

Stake outs were a necessity in gathering information. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of the job. It was the dullest point of the job. As a long-time sniper, this action was ninety-eight percent of his occupation. The last two percent was when things get exciting. 

Though, with years of experience, you would think you would get used to this. That was true to a certain degree, but eventually, it gets old fast. The only mercy Barsad had was that the officer was constantly on the move. 

Some of his destinations were predictable, such as the orphanage or his shabby apartment. But other routes were less obvious. These routes led through tiny alleys and abandoned warehouses where only the true Gothamites knew about. Within these remote locations, he witnessed the officer communicate with his trapped brethren or meet with Commissioner himself.

He didn’t understand why the other officers would pledge their loyalty to a liar. Furthermore, he didn’t understand why they would risk their necks to keep the commissioner hidden. And then, more importantly, he didn’t understand why Blake involved himself in all of this. 

Bane’s little bird was far from ignorant. He knew the level of corruption that ran through the city like the filth and shit in the sewers. Yet, he chose to help them. 

“He could just be stupid.” Barsad mumbled as he peered down the scope into the window across from him, where Blake stood next to another officer, listening to whatever the Commissioner was saying. He reached next to him and turned up the volume to the radio. This radio did not belong to the bird but another officer until Crane exiled them to a cold sweat. 

The radio crackled before the commissioner’s voice rang through. They were going over the plans with someone name Captain Jones. It was an ongoing conversation that they spoke about a few days ago, which amused Barsad. He had warned that military man on the bridge that actions had consequences. Perhaps they would need to prove that they were more than talk and spectacle. 

“What about the bomb?” Captain Jones inquired. “Is it real? Or is it a stunt?”

“It’s very real, my boy.” The Commissioner said. “They are guarding it twenty-four-seven. They also deployed decoys all over the city. As we speak, my men are keeping track of their movements.” Which Barsad had witnessed on the occasional evenings and mornings, watching all the little officers leave their discrete markings on the walls whenever the trucks passed by. 

It was a simple way to keep track of the routes but he did wonder how they were keeping track of all the moving pieces. It was a large city and the vehicles were as identical as possible…

“Have you guys found out the identity of the bomber?” Captain Jones inquired.

“Not yet.” The Commissioner said. “But we will. Have you spoken to your superiors?”

“Yes, we’re still organizing a plan on how to infiltrate the city unnoticed. We are thinking of executing Plan A.” Captain Jones replied. 

“But that would put people at risk.” Bane’s bird gave a heated chirped.

“Who was that?” Captain Jones inquired. 

“Officer Blake.” Blake introduced, sounding a bit reluctant. “Your Plan A would put civilians in danger if they find out.”

“But they won't find out, Officer Blake.” Captain Jones stated. “As difficult as it is to believe, my men and I are capable in our jobs. So if you’re done hindering this conversation, we like to get back to business.”

The bird didn’t reply and looked almost calm but even Barsad could sense the anger that bubbled inside of him. Yes, it confused and intrigued Barsad that the officer allowed himself to be confined in this manner. If he was in the officer’s shoes, then he’d tell the man to fuck off. 

_Oh, that’s concerning._ He frowned to himself. He was starting to sympathize with the kid. This wasn’t anything unusual, especially during a long stakeout. With no one else around, you’re pretty much making a conversation with yourself or the mark. 

God, he just wanted to go back to his old job already but orders were orders. Besides, it was this or having to be in the same room with that batshit crazy woman. That was another anomaly that Barsad could not wrap his mind around but knew better than to question it. There was a long history between Bane and that woman, longer than his business with Bane. It would be beyond stupid to comment on it. Not that he was worried that Bane would lash out. He was more concerned that the woman would publicly flay him alive with Bane preventing him from fighting back.

And Bane would hold him back too… but it also seemed like the other man hadn’t mentioned anything about the little bird. Except for him, nobody knew about this particular cop or how long Bane had kept his eyes on him. Could it be possible that Bane hadn’t mentioned the officer to _Her_?

“Scandalous…” He drawled with a tone so dry that it can rival the Sahara. 

“We’ll reach out to you once we find more information.” Commissioner Gordon said.

“You make it sound like you have a lead.” Captain Jones pointed out. 

“We might.” Gordon said. 

Barsad tensed up. _What?_

“Our contact found someone who may have an idea of what we’re dealing with.” Gordon explained with such certainty that Barsad’s adrenaline started to pump through his veins. “We’ll be meeting with them today. We will keep you posted if our lead is promising.”

“Be careful out there, Commissioner.” Captain Jones said. 

“We will. Thank you again, Captain. Blake, you’re coming with--” The line was promptly cut. Barsad turned his full attention down his scope to see Blake stepped out of his view. Down below to the base of the building, he could see the officers starting to disperse. 

He pressed his comm in his ear. “Brother, your bird is on the move.” 

There was a pause and then a crackle in the comm. “He’s returning to his nest?” 

“No,” Barsad gathered his things as he watched Blake and the Commissioner entered a car. “He’s going to a new location.”

“Another meeting spot?” Bane inquired. 

“No,” Barsad hoisted his gears over his shoulders and headed for the exit. “He might be flying into the flames.”

For a moment, a heavy silence settled through the comm. “Follow him.”

“Already am.” Barsad ended the line and started down the stairwell, making sure to curse the gods for his shitty luck. 

Hopefully, the bird knew better than to squawk at the princess, but deep down inside, Barsad knew better than to hold his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is just an itty bitty chapter, I figure I might as well knock this out. I hope you enjoy this lil chapter.


	11. A Sly Fox, an Icy Princess and a Fiery Robin Walks into a Bar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diamond Dust (also known as ‘The Double Ds’) was an upscale club for the rich and famous. No one below the 1 million dollar bracket was allowed here, except for the abused staff and their lovely smiles. It was a pretty joint that magazines covered quite often with their over the top luxurious interior and outer appearance. Not to mention the many actors, models and hot celebrities that walked through their diamond-studded doors. After Bane’s revolution, it looked like any other building you would find in the slums.

Diamond Dust (also known as ‘The Double Ds’) was an upscale club for the rich and famous. No one below the 1 million dollar bracket was allowed here, except for the abused staff and their lovely smiles. It was a pretty joint that magazines covered quite often with their over the top luxurious interior and outer appearance. Not to mention the many actors, models and hot celebrities that walked through their diamond-studded doors. After Bane’s revolution, it looked like any other building you would find in the slums. 

All the lights, glamour and windows were broken. The door was less than secure or at least that was how appeared from the car. Blake imagined that the inside was gutted like Alfred’s place but probably worse. He heard stories about the place. How the walls were gold plated and dotted with precious gems that trailed to the ceiling. Yeah, they probably did a number on this joint. 

This was where their meeting will take place. Blake was skeptical and had every right to be. Previous trails had led to dead ends and lack of sleep. For this entire week, he only managed to obtain eight hours of sleep. So, yes, he was a bit moodier thanks to the exhaustion but sleep was hard to do on your own without anyone watching your back. There was always that unlucky chance that someone breaks into your place. Not that it was a foreign concept to Blake, he does live in the slums after all, but to know that they were hunting officers just intensified his paranoia. 

He wasn’t on the same level where there were wanted posters posted on the walls like Commissioner Gordon or Deputy Commissioner Foley. He hadn’t been on the force long enough for his name to get around either. He was still missing his badge but he knew the precincts were raided. It was only a matter of time till the bad guys goes through all their personal details…

 _Does it make a difference?_ His mind quipped and honestly, it doesn’t. Not really. He been cautious from the get-go and sadly limited his time with the orphanage, not wanting to put them at risk because of him. Which also put him in a sour mood. If only he could do more.

“Blake,” Blake turned to his passenger and met the calm gaze of the commissioner. “Before we go in--”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut and look pretty.” Blake interjected. Gordon frowned at him. “Look, I know, I was out of line earlier.”

“You were right with your concerns.” Gordon reasoned. 

“But the reality is that no matter what we do, there is always a risk.” Blake stated, meeting the older man’s eyes. “I know that and I really shouldn’t have said anything. So, yeah, I’ll be more careful this time. I’ll just leave the talking to you and Patrick.”

Gordon watched him carefully before giving him a reluctant nod. “Ok,” He said, “But if something is on your mind, Son, I rather you voice your concerns.” 

“Duly noted.” Blake said dismissively. He was being a brat to that olive branch but he was tired physically, mentally and emotionally. He just wanted this all to be over. “So, who is it that we’re meeting today?”

“Apparently, we’re meeting two employees of Wayne Enterprises.” Gordon replied as he unbuckled his seatbelt. 

In an instant, all the exhaustion left in a snap. Blake’s stared at the commissioner in surprise. “Who?” He asked with furrowed brows. “Bruce Wayne?”  


“No,” Gordon shook his head with an almost distant look to his eyes. “Unfortunately, there hadn’t been so much of a whisper of that billionaire hotshot. The one we are meeting today is the current face of Wayne Enterprises.” He looked ahead to spot a fellow GCPD stepping out of the club and gesturing to them. “Time to go.” He unlocked the door and stepped out. 

Blake scrambled out of his seat and hurried after the commissioner. All the while, his mind raked over the endless list of names that made up the extensive Wayne Enterprises’ hierarchy. In honesty, Blake was sure that none of those money bags stuck around. He had assumed that they ran while they could or was killed during the uprising. He was wrong with that notion. 

Crossing the threshold, Blake covered his nose and mouth as dust assaulted him from all corners. The area was lit rather mutedly thanks to the fading lights that slipped through the gaps in the structure. Yet, even as dark as it was, it was not enough to disguise the destruction around them, but that was secondary for him. Instead, he found his eyes trained on the two approaching figures that came from the darker recesses of the building. 

One of the figures was a slightly built woman with flowing, dark brown hair that was tied back in a messy ponytail. Even out of the suit, she held herself with an unusual grace as she walked nimbly through the cluttered terrain. Her companion, on the other hand, had a more difficult time navigating as he stumbled a little bit from an upturned chair. It was a small thing, but it made him more human. He was a tall man. Older than most that was currently present, with a shock of white hair that crowned his head and deep grooves of age that cut into his face. His eyes, though, seemed untouched by time. They radiated vibrantly with intelligence, youthfulness, and hope. 

“I must apologize for the location.” The woman spoke. Her voice carried an unusual accent that Blake couldn’t place. Her steel-blue eyes deceivingly softened as she gazed at them. “I figured that since the mob passed this part of the city that we should be safe for now.” The corners of her lips turned upwards in an almost sweet smile as she gazed at the commissioner and offered a dainty hand. “Commissioner Gordon, I presume?” 

“You presume correctly, Ms. Tate.” Commissioner Gordon shook her hand and turned to Blake and Patrick. “I would like to introduce you to my fellow officers, Connor Patrick and John Blake. Patrick, Blake, I would like you to meet Ms. Miranda Tate and Mr. Lucius Fox.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you,” Patrick gave them a polite nod. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Blake greeted. His words sounded a little stilted. Most people would ignore the slight inflection but instead, it drew those piercing blue eyes to him. 

“Is there something the matter, Officer?” Ms. Tate inquired with a curious look on her face. The others probably shared the same expression but he couldn’t pay any attention to them. Especially not when her gaze stabbed right through him and pinned him down where he stood.

“No, ma’am.” He managed to gather himself and loosened the subconscious tension from his shoulders. “I was just remembering seeing you on the news is all. I heard of all the fundraisers that you managed to raise on your dime, along with you succeeding as the head of Wayne Enterprises. I never thought that I would be in the same room with someone so accomplished as yourself.”

Ms. Tate peered at him long and carefully before her face broke into a small smile. “I appreciate your kind words, Officer Blake, but flattery is not needed here. I am just another fellow Gothamite doing all they could to survive these circumstances.” 

“Which we will get through.” Commissioner Gordon affirmed. “My contact said that you may have information that could help us.”

“Yes, of course. If you don’t mind, can we take this conversation to the back office? As far as I know, this area is secured but I would like to take as much precaution as possible.” Miranda retorted. “You never know what these terrorists are capable of.”

“Completely understandable.” Gordon replied and gestured to a young woman. “Please, lead the way, Ms. Tate.” 

Miranda gave a nod in thanks and led the small group deeper into the club. Patrick followed after them when he noticed Blake wasn’t following. “Not going to join us?”

“We can’t all be in one spot without a pair of eyes keeping watch.” Blake reasoned. “Go on ahead. I’ll take post from here.”

“Radio on?” Patrick asked. 

“Radio on.” Blake confirmed. Patrick nodded before he sprinted off to catch up with the others. It was only when the group disappeared from his line of sight did Blake expelled the breath he was holding. 

“Holy shit…” He mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck as he felt the chill trickled down his spine. He remembered seeing her face on the news after the stock market crashed. He knew something was off and now, dear god, it was like someone froze him from the inside out. Oh man, he had seen his share of corporate sharks and worse, but she was a piece of work. She was the sort that came off innocent, with words that were so sweet that people wouldn’t be able to pick up the poison that was laced within it until it was too late. 

It baffled him how Gordon and Patrick didn’t sense it. Could he be making this shit up? He doubted it. He may be exhausted and sleep-deprived, but his instinct hadn’t let him down so far… It also made him wonder if her former associates had ever sensed it. He wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t. Some people only see what they wanted to see after all. 

Though, none of that made any difference now. Right now, they were on the same side because for some odd reason she needed them. What-for and why exactly was beyond Blake. The only thing he could hope for was that Gordon doesn’t show her all their cards. 

_Already thinking of the worst of people?_ He closed his eyes and let out a huff of frustration. Yes, he was thinking the worst of people and can anyone blame him? He shook the thoughts from his head and started his slow, lonely trek from one side of the room to the other. He scanned the open area. His ears strained for any sound as his mind drifted. 

Silence hung in the air, save for the scraping from the broken plates against his shoes. His eyes scaled up toward the ceiling, to a lopsided chandelier that hung dangerously on its last wires. The ceilings and walls were riddled with bullet holes. Some had a splash of a muddy red substance that haloed around it. It was becoming harder to believe that at one point this dilapidated joint was one of the most sought out clubs in the world. 

“Jesus…” He muttered as he turned away from the former VIP corner when he felt a vibration from his pocket. Instinctively, he silenced it. It was probably Jason because who else would be texting him. The last time he was at the orphanage, the kid had stepped up. Not only was he watching over the younger boys but he made a reluctant peace with Kirk and the other former Swithin boys. He even helped Father Reilly keep track of their food supplies and other inventories. Jason was probably sending Blake an update of their current status. 

That thought vanished when he felt the phone vibrated again and then again, this time more insistently. He pulled the phone from his pocket saw that it was a phone call from an unknown number until it died. His eyes darted to the corner of the screen and frowned when he saw that he barely had one bar. 

“Fuck…” He looked around and headed for the window in hopes of a better signal. It only offered him a bar and a half. 

“Can never get a reception when you need it, huh?” Blake startled and whipped around to see Lucius Fox and the old man’s apologetic face. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” He waved it off and straightened a bit. “Is the discussion over already?” He looked passed Lucius, expecting to see the rest of the group but saw no one. 

“Just my part, I’m afraid.” Lucius said. “Your Commissioner and Ms. Tate are going over the finer details.” He looked around the open space. “Such a shame that this had all gone to waste.” 

“You used to come to this kind of joint?” Blake inquired and to his surprise, Lucius let out an honest laugh. 

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “I can’t even afford to get through those doors. No, I’ve seen it in the magazines. What did they used to say…. ‘An Architectural Masterpiece’.” He scoffed and gave him a sidelong glance with a mischievous smile. “Personally,” He began, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought it was a bit tacky.” He smiled wearily but amused. “My preference lies in laboratories rather than a place like this.” He gestured to their surroundings. 

“A mad scientist then?” Blake joked and felt the nervous tension slipped from his frame. 

“Something like that.” Lucius replied, with a smile that reached his eyes. “You must forgive me. I am an old man and names never did stick with me. What was your name again?”

Blake had to refrain himself from pointing out the lie. “Blake.” He offered a hand, “Officer John Blake.”

Lucius nodded. Those very knowing eyes lingered to the offered hand, clearly noticing the scars that ran across his palm. Before Blake could retract, Lucius took it into his own. It was a firm, secure grip with years of calluses from all that tinkering in the labs. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Officer Blake. Ms. Tate and I are grateful that you all were able to come. We know how harrowing things are for your fellow GCPDs.” Lucius said, letting go of the officer’s hand.

“I promise you, it’s probably no different than anyone else.” Blake said politely. 

“How modest.” Lucius commented and canted his head. “Officer Blake…” He repeated as if trying to get a better feel of the name. “I might be wrong, again I am terrible with names, but by any chance were you looking for me?”

Blake straightened. “Yes-- I’m surprised that message got to you.”

“The secretaries at Wayne Enterprises are very diligent in their job. Daisy especially. She hunted me down and delivered your message along with your card. I’m sorry that I was unable to call you back.” Lucius said.

Blake waved it off and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, we have a bigger issue to be concerned with.”

“But it was important at the time.” Lucius stated, “Daisy said that you sounded determined, like a dog on a scent. Heh, it’s strange. It makes me think of an incident that happened to an old friend of mine. He told me that an officer approached him one morning in regards to a missing person case. This officer was no stranger. My friend deemed him as quite ‘rude’ during their first meeting but the second time he was different. Cordial but determined to get to the bottom of this particular case which, strangely enough, was never reported.” He waved a hand lazily in the air as if to chase the memory away. “But look at me and my rambling. I’m sorry, I just can’t help but wonder the outcome to that case.” He turned and met Blake’s eyes, holding the officer’s attention in a vice. “Do you think that it’s still ongoing?”

Blake looked back at the other man and gave a curt nod. “Yeah,” He swallowed. “Yeah, I think it is.” 

Lucius smiled a relieved smile. “So do I.” 

Blake cleared his throat. “So… you’re a science man, right?” He asked. “Or was.”

“I still consider myself to be.” Lucius shifted his posture a little, giving Blake his full attention. “Why?”

“Well, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around some stuff that never made any sense to me.” Blake explained, “Maybe with your expertise, I can make heads or tails about it.”

“Shoot.” Lucius looking curious now. 

“That bomb that they have, that’s not something you can sneak into the city. Black market or not, someone would notice it.” Blake said, “Do you have any idea how can someone pull that off?” 

The small smile tilted downwards and those wise eyes grew dark. “Simple, you build it within the city.”

“But there’s regulations when handling anything nuclear, isn’t there?” Blake frowned. “Last time I remember, the market for an atomic bomb is under strict scrutiny.”

“Not unless you never intended it to be a bomb, then all that is required is a lot of paperwork with so much legal jargon that nobody would be able to understand it.” He sounded almost somber. “What you--what everyone saw was part of a larger project that meant to create a renewable energy supply that could power the entire city.”

“Wait, wait, why does it sound like you know--” Blake took a step back from Lucius. “That bomb, _that_ was part of Wayne Enterprises? You guys had the bomb.” 

“We never intended for it to be used like this.” Lucius frowned at him. “We were planning to help the city.”

“Well all roads to hell were paved with good intentions.” Blake snapped. He turned away from Lucius, raking his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit… that’s why we’re here. That’s how you guys have the intel because this was your project.” He furrowed his brows and then turned to Lucius. “But it is not only that, is it?” He stepped closer to Lucius. “Those weird-looking weapons and tanks…”

“Prototypes.” Lucius responded, his gaze unflinching.

“Dangerous prototypes,” Blake corrected, ignoring how his phone buzzed weakly in his pocket. “That is now in the hands of common thugs who have no idea what they are holding.” His anger slowly melted away as another thought surfaced. “I don’t understand.” He looked back up at Lucius. “You guys had this all under lock and key and practically buried it to death to the point where no one knew that they existed. How could someone outside of the company know any of this, let alone know where you guys kept them?”

Lucius held his gaze. “How indeed.” 

Before Blake could even process the implication the sound of a door opening filled his ears. He turned to see their small group making their way back to them. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Gordon said then turned to Ms. Tate. “We’ll reach back to our outside contact. Once we have things sorted, then I’ll reach out to you with the coordinates and the time.”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you again, Commissioner Gordon.” Ms. Tate said politely and turned her gaze to Lucius. “I believe we may have overstayed our welcome here. We should return to the group.” She looked at Blake. “Thank you for keeping watch over us.”

“Any time, ma’am.” Blake said and Lucius returned to the Miranda’s side. 

“Be careful out there.” Lucius said, “You can never be too cautious nowadays.” 

“You’re right on that.” Gordon said. “Do you two need an escort?” 

Lucius shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Thank you. All of you.” He said and the two members of Wayne Enterprises started to make their way to the back exit. 

“We must be off too.” Commissioner Gordon said as he led them out of the former club. “We’re losing light and you know that people will be patrolling the streets.” 

“Hunting for cops or supplies.” Patrick drawled. He glanced at Blake. “You missed out on a hell of a conversation.” He whispered.

“I’m sure you and Gordon will fill me in shortly.” Blake retorted and felt his phone buzzed to life now that they were outside. He quickly answered as he walked to his car. “Jason--”

“Jason’s gone.” A small voice whimpered and immediately Blake stopped in his tracks.

“Tim?” He said, checking the screen to see Susan’s name across it. “Tim, what do you mean Jason’s gone?” 

“Blake, is everything ok?” Gordon asked but Blake forcefully tuned him out and pressed the phone to his ear to try to hear the little boy.

“He went after the bad guys.” Tim managed to say between sniffles. 

“What bad guys?” Blake turned his back to Gordon and Patrick, whose eyes were boring holes into the back of his head. 

“The bad guys that took the food.” Tim’s voice quivered.

“And they took Jason?” Blake did all he could to squash the panic from bleeding into his voice. 

“No. Jason followed after them. He said he’ll get the food back.” Tim let out a soft cry. “I know I shouldn’t have let him go. I tried to stop him, I really did! I’m so sorry--”

“It’s not your fault, Tim. None of it is your fault. Look, I’ll be there in a few seconds, alright?” He covered the mouthpiece. “Gordon, I can’t bring you to the safe house--”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gordon assured. “Do you need our help?”

Blake considered it but also considered the target that’s on Gordon’s back. “No, I got this. I got to go.” He stepped into the driver side. “If I need a backup, I’ll call you guys.”

“Radio on?” Patrick piped. 

“Radio on.” He quickly peeled out of the lot and switched the phone onto speaker. “Are you still here with me, Tim?”

“I’m so sorry, John.” Tim whimpered. 

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated. “You know what you can do to help Jason?”

“What?” He asked, his voice was hoarse with sadness. 

“You could tell me everything that happened.” He desperately ignored the painful squeeze around his heart. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Ok.” Tim said in a tiny voice.

“Ok.” Blake gripped the wheel so hard that his fingernails left crescent-shaped moons in the leather cover. “Start from the top.” 

And Tim did.

\-----

“You bird had flown off again.” Barsad reported from his perch. “He even left the commissioner behind. It looks like he was in a hurry.” He turned attention to the princess and the aged man who was leaving the building as well.

“I doubt that he would hurry to his apartment, even if it was on fire.” Bane replied through the comm. “Something must’ve occurred at the orphanage.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Barsad retorted. “Their defense isn’t that strong and the rest of the buildings are probably ransacked of their supplies. Desperate men wouldn't let an opportunity pass them by.” Desperation does bring the worst out of people. He shouldered his rifle. “It will only take a few minutes for me to catch up with your bird.”

“That would be unnecessary.” Bane said. “I want you to ensure Talia’s safety.” 

Barsad paused. “Are you sure?” He asked. “You don’t need any eyes on your pet?” 

“I can take care of that.” Bane replied in a tone that left no room for question. “Report back to me once your duty is accomplished.”

Barsad fought back a heavy sigh but not grimace. “All right.” He managed to say, “I’ll meet with you later then.”

“Take care, Brother.” Bane said before the line ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And one more chapter before things get crazy on my side again. But, it's a chapter closer to Bane and Blake interaction. That should count for something, right? 
> 
>  
> 
> Again, many thanks for all those who took the time to read this little story and leave the kinds words and kudos. I appreciate it and I again hope you enjoy this chapter.


	12. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The street lights flickered on, illuminating the harbor with its soft glow. It reaches just fell short from caressing the crawling vehicle that rolled along the wet pavement. Blake scanned the area, searching for any signs of life while his head throbbed with the information he learned from Tim and Father Reilly.

The street lights flickered on, illuminating the harbor with its soft glow. It reaches just fell short from caressing the crawling vehicle that rolled along the wet pavement. Blake scanned the area, searching for any signs of life while his head throbbed with the information he learned from Tim and Father Reilly. 

A gang of thugs decided that the orphanage was a good place to hit up for supplies. At first, it wasn’t a violent confrontation. They were simply interested in the food. It all went to hell when a panic volunteer stumbled against one of the thugs. Of course, the gang mistaken that for a threat and quickly turned on the volunteer, beating the man with what looked like a metal pipe. Father Reilly intervened and was struck as a result. The rest of the volunteers kept the kids away and didn’t bother to try to fight them. The gang proceeded to raid their supplies, leaving them with just scraps. Mercifully, the thugs were unaware of the shotgun that was stowed away in Father Reilly’s tiny room because if they knew... Well, it was a good thing that they didn’t know.

So now Susan was left tending to the injured volunteer and Father Reilly, while the others worked on trying to mitigate the fear that accumulated during the altercation. Also, let's not forget, Jason was missing. 

Blake swallowed his pride and called Patrick. Their defense was breached and people got hurt. It put the remaining party in a precarious situation that left them vulnerable for another attack. The group was too big to move on a whim, so they couldn’t abandon the orphanage. Patrick and only Patrick was the best option that he had. He was the closest one around and having Gordon at the orphanage would only draw more unwanted attention. 

This arraignment gave Blake the chance to follow the fracture voicemails to the harbor. He glared at the painted white lettering of Dock #17 as if it was responsible for all that occurred. He lost count of how many times he passed the sign or how strained his eyes became for trying to peer around the myriad of cargo containers from his car. He couldn’t do this on foot. It was too much for one man to cover on his own. Not to mention that time was against him and thanks to these shipping containers, the area was practically an urbanized version of a hedge maze. 

He punched the speed dial button and listened to the ring for the nth time that day. “Come on Jason…” He mumbled as his car slowly rolled pass Dock #17. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone--” Blake hung up with a growl. 

“Fuck.” He glanced up to see Dock #18. “Where are you…”

Nothing about the docks hinted of any inhabitants. Some areas were cloaked in pitch darkness and others were bathed in blinding lights but this was the result of the explosions messing with electrical lines and back up generators. The only real sign of life was smoke. The nights were getting colder and street lamps hardly provided any heat. Anyone out here would had started a fire in one of the public trash cans, barrels or dumpsters. But unfortunately, he was having a hard time spotting them thanks to the damn shipping containers. There was very little that manage to peek over them, especially when some stood taller than houses. 

He hit the button again. “Come on.” 

“Sorry I can’t come--”

“Fucking hell.” He stabbed the phone with a finger and called again. 

“Sorry-”

“Fuck.” He smacked the wheel hard enough that his scars almost ache. His head throbbed even more with his rising blood pressure. “Fuck…” he cursed again then turn his eyes to the device, looking pleadingly at it. “Pick up the phone, Jason.” He hit the button again.

“Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now…” Blake sagged in his chair and shut his eyes. 

_Where are you, Jason?_

“Blake? Blake is that you?” A new voice interrupted the default message, sounding much younger than phone’s original owner. 

Blake nearly hit the roof of the car as he shot upright and answered, “Jason!”

“Shhh!” Jason cut him off. “Jeezus, you’ll give out my position.” He huffed exasperatedly as if Blake was the child in this situation.

“Where are you!?” Blake hissed. “Do you have any idea how worried everyone is about you?”

“We need the food.” Jason reasoned. “It’s not like I ran away. I told Tim what I’m doing.” He explained in a hushed whisper. “The fact that you’re calling me gotta mean that you saw what happened at the orphanage.”

“I did--”

“And you saw how much they took.” Jason quickly added. 

“That doesn’t mean you go chasing after the guys that beat up Ted and Reilly.” Blake retorted. 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Jason’s frustration bled into his voice. “If you were there, then you would’ve done the same thing.”

“And that would still be wrong.” Blake said and mentally blamed himself for Jason’s actions. He knew his recklessness would come back and bite him in the ass. “What I do--all the stunts I pull, isn’t the right thing to do. Or at least it was not the brightest thing to do. I’m sure Father Reilly told you and the other boys that.” 

“But it is better than just sitting there and wasting time.” Jason argued. 

Blake forced himself to close his eyes and stymied his anger. He wanted to yell at Jason but squashed that feeling instead. He understood what Jason was talking about. It was a feeling he knew all too well. It was why he got into so many fights. He couldn’t just stand back and watch when someone else gets hurt. “That still does not mean you go barreling into a situation headfirst. You need to be smarter than that, smarter than me. Even if it does frustrate you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, tell me where you are, Jason.” 

“What about the food, Blake?” Jason insisted. “If we go back now, then we will lose all the food.” 

“We will deal with that after I find you.” Blake assured. “Tell me, where you are.”

“You shouldn’t even be coming here. There’s a guy as big as Bane--”

“Tell me where you are.” Blake repeated, firmly. 

There was a pause and then a reluctant sigh. “Dock #9.” 

Immediately, Blake turned the car around and quickly but quietly backtracked down the road. “Ok,” He exhaled noisily, “Are you closer to the water? Would you be able to get to the roads?” 

“I don’t see the water.” Jason replied. “All I see are the metal boxes.”

“Do you see the roads?” He asked as he passed by Dock #16. 

“No, just the metal boxes.” Jason let out an annoyed huff. “Look, you don’t need to come here. I can get myself out of here--”

“Are there any cranes there?” His eyes flickered to one of the few things that stood taller than the stacked shipping containers. 

“Yeah, I’m near the one for Dock #9.” Jason muttered, “It’s dark, though. They made a couple fires but I don’t think you could see it.”

“That’s fine, Jason--”

“Shhh!” The kid cut him off again as the faint sound of laughing men filled the line. “I’m going to move. Wait a second.” 

Blake didn’t reply. He wasn’t going to put the kid at risk just because his nerves were on end at the moment. He did pressed down a little harder on the pedal, practically speeding pass Dock #14 and #13. 

“Ok, I’m clear now.” Jason’s voice returned. “There’s a lot of guys.”

Blake let out a trembling sigh. “How many do you see?” 

“Three.” Jason reported. “But there were six or maybe eight that showed up at the orphanage. One of them was a really big guy, Blake. Much bigger than you.”

“He was as big as Bane, right?” Blake replied as he passed by another sign. 

_Dock #12_

“Yeah.” Jason said, “I don’t think you could beat him.” 

“You know it hurts me that you doubt my abilities.” Blake half-heartedly joked.

“What abilities?” Jason scoffed in response. “Look, there’s a lot of guys here. Between them and the Bane look alike, you don’t stand a chance. You don’t have to come after me, I can take care of myself.”

“I am not going anywhere until I pick you up.” Blake said firmly. “Do you understand?”

“Blake--shoot, I gotta move.” 

Blake pressed his lips into a line as he listened to the kid’s scurrying steps. His dark eyes flitted to the sign. 

_Dock #10_

_Just a little longer..._ And then it’ll be a beeline for the crane. He’ll park the car a good distance away, go in, grab Jason and get the fuck out of there. If pursued, they can bolt it for the car or lose their tail in this hell hole of a maze. Yes, that is what they’ll do--

“Oy! What are you doing here!?” A man bellowed from the speaker, interrupting Blake’s thoughts. His attention snapped toward the phone as the sound of pounding footsteps filled his ears, along with the angry shouts from the pursuers. 

“Get that brat!” One of the men shouted in the background. 

Jason was unusually quiet. No taunts or false bravado from the kid who always had the last word. The only thing Blake could hear from the preteen was his rushing footsteps. 

Blake gave up on stealth in favor of speed. He stomped down onto the gas, causing his tires to shriek as he turned into Dock# 9. Either side of him were walls of shipping containers of various heights and pathways that cut between each row, large enough for vehicles to plow through them. His eyes darted this way and that, searching for any signs of life. They even flickered upward, noting the tip-top of a crane from the uppermost left of his periphery. 

A muffled crash expelled from the phone’s speakers followed by the disgruntled curses from frustrated men. Jason was making sure those bastards doesn’t get too close to him. 

That fight spurred Blake’s hope as he scanned each of the passing rows on either side of him, searching for any clues of where the kid was. He had to be around there given by Jason’s descriptions. He just had to be. 

Thankfully, fate decided to toss him a bone. 

Toward his left side, deep between two rows of shipping containers, he spotted just the edge of a flashlight’s beam against the metal walls, along with a glimpse of a silhouette before it passed out of range. Without an ounce of hesitation, Blake turned the wheel and pursued after the light. He drove parallel to the path, not wanting to get too close and give out his position. After all, he didn’t know if the light belong to the men that were chasing Jason or were simply other guards. He could only hope it was the former.

Unfortunately, hope was cut short by the sound of a muffled clatter. His eyes tore away from the light, his feet ease off the gas as his attention centered on the phone. 

“Get off of me!” Jason shouted, but his voice sounded fainter. As if the phone wasn’t near his face. 

“Well, well, well…” Another voice spoke through the line. It sounded just as faint as Jason’s but was deeper and full of sleaze. “What do we have here?” Whatever was said after that was cut off when the line died. 

“Fuck!” Blake squeezed the wheel as his mind weeded through all his options. 

_He couldn’t scour the dock alone because he needed backup for that, but the closest cop around was Patrick who shouldn’t abandon his post._

_There was Gordon--but that’s a whole different can of worms that he doesn’t have time for._

_He could just mow down the guys with his car but that would put Jason at risk considering he doesn’t know where the kid was right now._

_He could try to thin the herd a little by luring them away, but how?_

He slammed on the brakes, causing the car to screech it’s presence to any nearby inhabitants. He snatched the old baseball bat he took from the orphanage, grabbed the keys and stepped out. He scanned the area for any movement but saw none. 

“Sorry, Ross.” He muttered to himself as he switched on the alarm to his partner’s car right before he banged the bat against the driver’s door. Instantly, the horn wailed into the night as the headlights flashed erratically. If this wasn’t going to grab the gangs' attention, then nothing would. 

Quickly, Blake sprinted toward his left, taking cover in the shadows against the side of one of the shipping containers. He kept the bat close to him as he peered around the edge to see his abandoned car and waited. Seconds moved at a sluggish pace and his impatience left his fingers twitching over the smooth edge of the bat. 

“Come on… come on…” He pleaded, trying to be patient but that was easier said than done. Especially since his mind kept wandering back to the fact that they had Jason. 

It felt like an eternity had passed by before two men finally appeared from the shadows. The strangers wore clothes that you expect from common city gangs. It was not like the fatigues that Bane’s mercenaries wore. These guys weren’t even wearing any body armor but they were armed.

The smaller of the two men was the first to approach the wailing vehicle. He lifted his flashlight to peer inside the car. He must’ve said something to his partner because the second guy came around to check the other side of the car before turning his light from one end of the path to the other. They exchanged more words, too low for Blake to hear, and gestured with their hands. Whatever said had the two facing at opposite ends of the path and parted ways. The intention was clear. They wanted to cover more grounds and find whoever it was that left their car in their territory. 

Blake's attention shifted to the smaller man that was heading in his direction. He lowered himself, making sure to be as flat as he could against the rusty metal wall. He wrung the bat between his hands as he waited, straining his ears to the sound of the scout’s footsteps. 

_A little closer…_ He drew the bat up a little. Just when the beam of light cut across his line of sight, the warmth of a second light brushed against his face. 

“The fu--” the gangster’s words were cut short by the end of Blake’s bat.

After that, everything became a blur as instinct took control. Black’s attention snapped from the surprise attacker to the scout and quickly swung the bat down across the man’s arms, knocking the gun and flashlight to the ground. With the same force, he swung the bat in a wide, upward arc that clipped the under the man's chin and sent him pinwheeling backward. Blake twisted back to the first attacker with a hard swing, which left the man staggering on his feet before the second shot knocked him down to the ground. 

Blake turned around in time just when the scout charged at him. He quickly stepped aside and swung the bat at the other man. While it didn’t carry the same force as his other hits, it was enough to knock the attacker against the side of the shipping container. 

The scout grunted as he bounced off the container and lunged for Blake. Blake brought the bat up like a shield and slammed the guy back against the container.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” The man spat and snarled, shoving against the bat. 

“Not today.” Blake growled, pushing back. Then in a surprise move, he let his assailant shove him away. The moment the man’s hands left his bat, Blake struck him.

The scout’s head snapped to the side, leaving him dazed as he clawed at the metal wall. The next hit left him in a crumpled heap at the base of the container. 

Blake staggered back, panting harshly into the cool air. All of his nerves were vibrating beneath his skin like a colony of agitated ants. He swallowed hard and forced himself out of his daze as he walked back to the edge of the container to make sure the scout’s partner was unaware. Once cleared, he set the bat down to grab the gun. 

Feeling the familiar weight in his hand brought his mind to a standstill. He could use this to even the playing field--even if it was just a fraction. At this point, there was nothing in his favor. He was outnumbered and outgunned. With this, he may have an advantage. He is a cop and was trained to use a firearm. He was sure he had a better aim than any of these guys and yet that thought caused his stomach to twist itself into knots. The corners of his lips started to droop as if gravity was personally tugging them downwards. 

He checked the chamber, the ammo shell glistened in the low light. With a hard swallow, he removed the clip from the gun and then chucked the infuriating weapon toward one side and the ammo clip to the other. The looming shadows were more than eager to gobble it up like a starving man. He repeated his actions with the second firearm as well.

It wasn’t worth it. Whatever advantage those guns could give him was not worth putting Jason’s life at risk. This wasn’t a Hollywood film where the magic bullets always find their target or miraculously missed the hostages. This was reality and a gun in a fight, things can get ugly fast and there was no way of undoing it. He’ll deal with the risk that comes with a short-range weapon. 

With that, he picked up the bat and started down the path where he saw the remaining scout. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the officer caught up with the other man. It helped that the scout was checking every nook and cranny for the suspected intruder.

Blake didn’t came at the man swinging. No, he kept his distance and well into the shadows as he watched him. 

This scout was different from his partner. He was less confident and overly cautious. Just the sound of a pebble bouncing across the floor caused the guy to whip around and fire two shots without hesitation or care. 

It left Blake on edge. If he goes after this man, then he would need to come at him hard and fast. The first strike needed to stun the man at the very least, if not knock him out completely--

 _But what would be the gain from that?_ He’ll have one less guard to worry about but then he loses the one person who knew how to navigate this maze. Then again, who knew how long this guy was going to search for him? 

The answer to the latter question came with an electrical crackle in the air. The scout stopped and Blake kneeled behind a container, two rows away from the scout. He peered around the edge to witness the man holstering his gun and lifting the radio from his belt. 

“Yeah, boss?” The scout greeted, his eyes constantly scanning his environment. 

“Where the hell are you and Roger?” A voice replied, filled with that same, familiar sleaziness that Blake heard just a couple minutes ago. 

“We’re looking for the car’s owner.” The grunt replied as he absently shined his light from one end of the path to the other--unknowingly causing Blake to pull back.

“The owner is probably the same guy that the kid was talking to.” The boss scoffed. “I swear to god that if it’s that damn priest… I was a fair man, Jorge. It wasn’t our fault. We did what we had to do and we will continue to do so, even if that means that we have to teach the padre a lesson.” 

“I know, boss.” The guy agreed, mostly for his boss to move on already. “We gotta do what we can to survive.”

“Exactly.” The other man agreed, “You know what, come back to base. If it is the priest from earlier--or whoever the kid was talking too--then they’ll be heading for us.”

“Are you sure boss?” The guy inquired, turning away from Blake’s direction. 

“Did I stutter, Jorge?” The Boss scoffed, “You and Rogers get your ass back here. Got it?” He didn’t leave any room for comments before he ended the line. 

The thug let out an exasperated sigh as he switched on his radio again. “You hear that Roger? Head back to base,” he said, then took his finger off the receiver. “Goddamn prick.” He mumbled as he hooked his radio to his belt, reclaimed his gun and began his trek through the maze. 

Quickly and quietly, Blake followed even though his mind was repeatedly shouting the word “Trap!” He couldn’t blame it. Everything about it felt like a trap but the reality was, he didn’t have any other options. He wasted enough time as is. This was the best opportunity he had and he’ll be a fool if he doesn’t take it. 

It was a good thing too because it was not a straight shot to the base. It was full of turns that even the thug had to pause and recollect his sense of direction. They were using their surroundings as their private maze. Blake did not doubt that getting out of here with Jason will be a bitch but he couldn’t concern himself with that. At least, not at the moment. 

He proceeded after the scout, mindful for any signs that the guy may be onto him. The threat ahead of him was very clear but that didn't stop his eyes from rolling to the corners of their sockets to peer over his shoulder. Tall, looming shadows concealed his steps and form but it could also be concealing something else… 

_Stop it._ His mind harped, _There’s no one there._ Yet that didn’t stifle the creeping sensation that seeped just beneath his skin.

He shoved the feeling aside and put his focussed ahead of him. It was a few more turns before a light started to peak at the edge of the path. It grew brighter as they approached, disturbed only by silhouettes of the other guards.

Blake quickened his steps then and there, closing the distance and even allowed his bat smack against one of the containers. 

The scout turned to the sound and before he could utter a word, Blake’s bat connected with his face. It struck the man so hard that it knocked him right off his feet and into unconsciousness. His body collapsed to the ground while his flashlight rolled away and his gun skittered off to the side. His radio, though, was trapped beneath his unconscious form and filled the space with its noisy crackling.

“Fuck!” Blake cursed as he shoved the unconscious scout off of the radio but the damage was already done.

“Jorge?” A new voice called out as two shadowy figures appeared at the end of the path. “Is that you?” 

Blake ducked behind one of the containers, barely dodging the light that settled over crumpled heap of their fellow teammate. 

“Holy shit!” Another voice spoke as their steps sped up to the unconscious scout. 

This time, Blake didn’t waste a moment to strike. He swung the bat at the closest man, managing to take his legs right out from under him. His partner though proved to be more difficult as he dodged Blake’s initial strike. 

“Motherfucker.” The guy barked, lifting his rifle--or at least tried to until officer knocked the muzzled down just as he pulled the trigger. “Fuck!” He tried again. This time, Blake knocked the gun to the side, forcing the shot to go wide. 

Before the assailant could recover, Blake slammed the bat down onto the man’s arms, knocking the gun away before he drew the bat in an upward swing. In a slow second, Blake swore he felt the jaw cracked against the smooth wooden surface. 

The guy staggered back with a loud, harsh, keening cry of pure agony before the bat smashed against the side of his head. He collapsed next to the other men, unconscious and unnervingly still. 

Guilt didn’t have a chance to spark inside of Blake before he was off again. He bolted down the path to his right and prayed that nobody saw him. He couldn’t afford to backtrack now, not when he was so close to the base. He gritted his teeth and kept going, glancing toward the wall of metal containers to his left. 

Through tiny gaps, he spotted men--lots of men--running in the direction where he came from. Everyone probably heard the gunshots and was now on high alert, which could be a good thing. With their attention elsewhere, it gave Blake the few precious seconds he needed.

His eyes darted forward and his steps slowed to a walk. In front of him was a bright light that sliced through his shadowy pathway like a hot knife through butter. 

_Another entrance…_ He approached with caution. Subconsciously, he squeezed the bat’s grip as he settled next to the edge of the container. With a hard swallow, he leaned forward and took a careful peek around the corner.

On the other side of the wall, were scattered crates. Some were sealed, others were opened for their contents and the rest were used to fuel the fire that burned in metal barrels. Peeking from the opened ones were various objects that range from being useful (such as lighter fuel and generators) to useless (cell phone cases). What Blake noticed right away was that none of it contained any food. It was probably the first thing that was taken from the port. Hell, Bane and his men could have raided it before all hell broke loose. That would explain why the gang went so low as to steal food from an orphanage.

But that wasn’t the thing that made Blake’s stomach dropped to the floor. It didn’t create the chill that dripped down his spine or the dread that weighed over him like an icy blanket. Among the crates, one stood out from all the others. Seared onto its side was the distinct, indisputable logo that marked the biggest corporation in Gotham City.

****

W  
Wayne Enterprises

From what he could see, the box was picked clean.

The company had their hands in several things. All the guards he encountered had normal weapons. For all he knew, that crate could’ve contained several useless shit that pose no threat but despite his efforts, none of his reasoning stuck. All he could think of was his talk with Lucius Fox. What if these guys got a hold of the prototypes? And if they did, which one?

 _Well, standing here and doing nothing will certainly help with the situation._ His brain quipped in annoyance and grounded Blake to what mattered: Jason. 

Whatever the hell was in that box--well, he’ll just have to deal with it whenever it shows up but right now, Jason needed him. He swallowed his nerves, surveyed the area one more time before cutting across the light and into the shadows. He only got a few feet in when he heard a crash on the other side of the wall of containers. 

“Fucking brat!” A man barked.

Blake’s head jerked to his left and honed in on the small gaps between containers. Through it, he spotted the familiar blur of a kid racing by, followed by a larger figure in pursuit.

“Shit!” Blake backtracked toward the second entrance, following after the large man’s curses. He looked ahead to see a small shadow break through the light before it was swallowed up by a larger figure. 

“Get off of me, you fatass!” Jason snarled. 

It took all of Blake’s will not charge at the kid’s assailant. Instead, he crept slowly toward the entranceway. His eyes lingered toward the distorted shadow on the floor before he peeked around the edge of the container. His teeth clenched so hard that his jaws ached. 

Facing him was the broad back that belonged to the boss of this gang. He was a beast of a man that held the struggling kid high in the air as if the preteen was just a doll. Jason was not wrong about the man being as large as Bane. The guy towered over Blake, but he was not as fit as the masked terrorist. Sure, the guy had around two hundred pounds over him but Blake doubted that it was all muscles. 

“Let me go!” Jason shouted, clawing at the man’s hand like an angry cat.

“You are an annoying little brat, you know?” The guy sneered, giving the kid an abrupt shake in emphasis. “It’s no wonder why your parents ditch you on the side of the road.”

“You don’t know shit!” Jason harped, digging his dull nails into the meaty hand when a movement caught his attention. In a swift second, his dark eyes spotted a familiar figure in the shadows before gazing back at the asshole below him. 

“Oh, I think I can piece it together.” The guy growled, unaware of the approaching threat. “A spoiled little brat like yourself. I bet you drove your parents crazy with all your whining.” He snickered. “I bet they were so happy to get rid of you.”

A weary smile spread on the kid’s face. “I think mistaken them for your parents.” With that, he sank his teeth into the man’s hand with all his might. 

“Fuck!” He threw the kid onto the floor and ripped a black, slender, metal rod that he had strapped to his right leg. “Fucking little brat--Agh!” He shouted as knees buckled suddenly when a firm, blunt object smashed against the back of his knees. He twisted around, seeing just a glimpse of the officer before he felt the bat crashed over his back and shoulders. 

The force was so hard that the bat split at the handle, causing the thicker piece to helicopter in the air as the behemoth fell like a cut tree. 

Blake quickly stepped around the man, gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were white. He eyed the man, daring him to move. “You ok, Jason?” He spared glanced over his shoulder to the kid. 

Jason was slowly climbing to his shaking legs. “Yeah.” He huffed. His eyes lingered on the giant before wandering up to the familiar officer. A shaky, but cheeky smile spread on the youth’s face. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“Well, sorry I couldn’t get here any faster.” Blake shot the thug one more look before turning to face the kid. The kid looked a little roughed up around the edges, but nothing too serious. “Come on,” Blake took a step to the kid, “I don’t know how much time we have left but we got to go before the rest of the guards show up.” He reached over to grab Jason’s arm but the kid pulled away. “Jason?”

“The food.” Jason reminded, taking a couple steps down the path on his right. “It should be right over there.” He pointed toward the direction of the crane, which was more visible now. “We could go in, grab some and then--”

“We’re leaving now.” Blake cut him off and took another step toward him. “We don’t have time for this--”

“If we leave without the food, then what was the point of coming here?” Jason argued. 

“To get you.” Blake retorted, snatching the kid’s arm. “We got to go now, Jason--”

“We’ll die without the food!” Jason tried to tug his arm away but the officer’s grip refused to budge.

“That won’t happen.” Blake replied and pulled Jason back. “We need to go.” 

“No!” Jason yanked his arm again. Anger flashed in the kid’s eyes at this betrayal but as soon as it erupted, it died just as quickly. 

“As much as it’s fun to watch you two squabble, is it my turn to play now?” That sleazy voice spoke right behind Blake’s ear. 

Blake shoved Jason away and then quickly threw himself to his right. He felt the rush of air brushed against the side of his face as that black metal rod came down where his head used to be. He whirled around, placing himself in front of Jason to face their assailant. 

The guy was red-faced and huffing like a bull ready to charge. A wide, humorless smile split opened across his face. “We’re going to have soooo much fun.” He said right before two, thick arms shot out from the shadows behind him. 

Blake staggered back with eyes wide as saucers. The remaining piece of the bat slipped through his trembling fingers as he stared in shock.

“Nngh! NNngh!” The thug shrieked behind the unmovable hand that covered his nose and mouth. He flailed wildly, swinging that metal rod at whoever was behind him but it like the intruder was always just out of his reach. In frustration, he threw the useless rod to the ground, then tried desperately to break the intruder’s hold but it felt like he was fighting a mountain. 

Blake didn’t even flinch when the rod bounce from the ground and bumped against his feet. His gaze remained dead set on the owner of those thick, muscled arms. He couldn’t even see the bastard’s face but he knew they were looking straight at him. He felt pinned beneath their gaze, naked and vulnerable. Despite his spitfire spirit, he couldn’t look away. He was trapped. 

It took a soft, child-like whimper to break the spell.

Blake blinked then boldly turned his back to the scene to face Jason. “Jason, look at me!” 

“Wha--” Jason’s voice quivered, dazed almost as he stared with large wet eyes at the monstrosity that laid behind Blake. 

“Look at me!” Blake barked, ignoring the shrill, muffled cries behind him. “Keep your eyes on me!”

Jason looked at Blake before his attention flickered past him again. 

“Jason!” He snapped, drawing the kid’s attention back to him. “Eyes. On. Me!” 

The kid opened his mouth to speak when a deafening crack stole his voice. 

Everything fell silent.

Blake held the kid’s gaze, forcefully ignoring the feel of the heavy presence that pressed against his back. He continued to hold on when he heard the heavy thud of a limp body hitting the floor next to his feet. He knew what was behind him. He knew… He took a slow, trembling breath as he gathered his quaking nerves. 

“Jason,” Blake began as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His fingertips brushed against the damp surface, searching for the smooth edge of that metal rod while never breaking eye contact with the kid. “Jason, I need you--”

Jason abruptly shook his head. “No…” His voice quivered, hardly higher than a whisper now. “No, Blake.” 

“I need you to run.” Blake stated. His fingers grazed against a curve edge before wrapping around the cylindrical base. There was a good weight to it, unexpectedly lighter than he predicted and shorter than the bat but it will do. Not like he had that many options to work with. 

“No,” Jason shook his head even harder. “I can’t. Blake please--”

“You can.” Blake smiled at him reassuringly, even though his heart felt like it was going to break through his ribcage because of how hard it pounding right now. “I’ll catch up. Go, Jason.” He slowly climbed back to his feet. His grip tightened around his weapon. “Run.”

“John-” Jason’s voice cracked. 

“Run!” Blake shouted. Jason bolted from the scene like a spooked rabbit. Just as quickly, Blake faced the man who put him in the hospital so long ago. 

The shadows peeled away as the masked terrorist stepped into the light. No biker jacket this time around. No jacket at all. Instead, the masked man donned a sturdy, military-grade vest as if the chilly air didn’t phase him one bit. The guy wasn’t sporting any weapons from what Blake could see but then Bane didn’t look like the guy who would fight with a gun. His brain might’ve been foggy at the time but Blake didn’t recall Bane using his gun when they first met. That was slightly promising.

Blake turned the rod in his hand, adjusting to the unusual weight. “Long time no see, Stranger.” He offered a rueful smile as he took a careful step to his left, only for the other to mirror it, blocking his path. Then again, it's not like the guy needed to move that much to get in his way. 

_Shit._

“I know it’s been a while since you had an exciting night like that one time.” He took a step to his right and again Bane followed suit. “But now it’s a bad time. Those guards--I’m sure you saw them; beefy dudes with guns. Well, they should be coming back any moment now.” He warned, hoping to distract Bane but instead he received a look that he wasn’t expecting. The mercenary looked almost amused by his words. That wasn’t a good sign, not at all. “Why don’t we reschedule?” He gestured as he took a step back away from the mercenary. Bane countered it by taking two steps toward him. “Or not.” He swallowed his nerves as he studied the quiet man. He needed to buy Jason sometime, even if it does put him in a precarious situation.

“I guess I can spare a minute.” He squeezed the baton, took a breath and then charge. 

With the same force he used that broke the bat, he swung the metal rod down as fast and as hard as his right arm could muster, before following that with a backhand swing. The man somehow dodged those strikes without even appearing to move an inch. Frustration welled up inside of Blake as he came at Bane relentlessly. He even boldly stepped into the man’s range, knowing full well that getting too close to Bane was a bad idea. 

Much to his surprise, the mercenary didn't take the bait. The large man--that shouldn’t be able to move so effortlessly as he did--dodged every strike and hit that Blake threw at him. Not once in the flurry did he threw a counter strike. It was as if Blake wasn’t worth the extra effort...

The motherfucker was playing with him.

Blake’s eyes narrowed as his pride sparked in anger. He took another swing at the man in frustration. “As much as this has been fun,” He panted, baring his teeth like a feral dog. “I have a better use for my time. So if you don’t mind, why don’t you stay down!” And swung the rod down at Bane’s head. 

It would’ve been a solid hit if it was any other person, but this was Bane. 

Blake gaped at the hand that grasped the other end of the rod. Before he could even process what was happening, he felt the ground leave his feet as he was lifted into the air. Instinctively, he grabbed onto the rod for dear life and felt himself starting to slide over the smooth surface. 

“Fuck…” He cursed, turning his head to find himself meeting eye to eye with the masked terrorist. 

Those intelligent eyes bored right through him as if taking him apart right there and then. It was like a predator that cornered their prey and the prey knew there was no escaping those jaws. 

His arms started to shake under the stress of his weight while he desperately clung to his only weapon. He slid down another half an inch when he felt it. Beneath his sweaty right thumb was an indent, a slot that he never noticed before. He pushed down on it because what else did he had to lose at this rate?

A soft whirring sound drew both the mercenary’s and officer’s attention toward the rod. It vibrated slightly and something moved but Blake couldn’t see it because of the mercenary’s hand. What he saw, though, was a brilliant blue light that slipped between Bane’s fingers right before a fierce crackle of electricity emanated from the rod. 

The shock forced Bane to let go, immediately dropping the officer to the ground. 

Blake quickly climbed to his feet. His eyes darted to rod and noted the thin metal panels had parted, exposing the bright blue core that sparked hungrily. He looked up at the mercenary and smirked, his confidence renewed. He lunged at the other man, doubling his effort and speed to try to get a solid hit or even a graze. If Bane insist on doing nothing, then that's fine by him. 

Except the mood had changed. Bane was no longer just dodging his attempts but returned it. 

Blake jumped back before the fist could clip him, stumbling against the crates that surrounded them while Bane moved as if he knew the whole layout of this dock. The officer ducked to avoid another hit but was backhanded across the face. He crashed against one of the barrels, knocking it over as he landed on the ground. It’s embers tumbled out, quickly devouring the boards of nearby crates and their contents. 

The officer scrambled away from the fire, grabbing the taser before dodging Bane’s next strike. He quickly twisted, turned and ducked from the blows and did his best to counter but it was clear that he can’t keep up with it. The sleep deprivation and just being out skilled was evident as he took more and more hits that left him rattled. 

All the while, the fire was spreading ravenously. He didn’t even notice it till it singed his sleeve. He looked around, startled to see the blaze. His eyes desperately searched for an opening and spotted one a good distance away. He also noticed the crates that he saw earlier, the ones that contained the lighter fuels and generators. He ducked from another punch, snatched one of the burning boards and chucked the flaming ember in that direction. He didn’t wait to see if he hit his mark. Instead, he turned on his heels and bolted for the clearing. 

He heard and felt the roar of the flames as the crates ignited and erupted behind him but he didn’t look back. He kept his eyes forward as he broke away from the inferno. He kept running, not wanting to stop in fear that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He knew he couldn’t escape the dock but he could try to lose Bane in the maze. 

Up ahead, he could see the crane along with a working generator that was keeping the lights on. He could aim for the crane and then make a beeline for the containers--His thoughts stopped short as instinct came on high alert. His brain didn’t have time to compute what was wrong. He just threw himself into the floor as a burning barrel flew over him and smashed into the generator, cloaking the world around them in utter darkness. 

Blake climbed to his feet. His eyes darting this way and that in a frantic search for the man that threw the barrel but unfortunately saw no one. His breath was erratic as he turned away from the blaze to the shadows that left him blind. 

“Neither the light nor dark would protect you.” A voice spoke just out of his line of sight. The same voice he heard so many days ago, down in the sewers. The same one that made his soul tremble. 

Blake squeezed the taser in a tight fist, squaring his shoulders. “It’s a good thing that I’m adaptable.” He spun around and stabbed the taser into the shadows. 

The blue light sparked with a thin wisp of smoke drifted where the tip met the center of the broad chest of the other man. Blake peered up at the taller man, seeing the blue light danced in those unflinching eyes.

Of course, the vest was shock proof. 

“Fuck me--” Black cursed right before his hand was knocked away, followed by a fist ramming into his sternum. He staggered back, gasping as he saw black dots filled his eyes as a large silhouette approach. He brought his arms up in time to block a hit before countering it weakly with a blind swing at the shadows. He painted the engulfing darkness with broad, desperate strokes of the blue light as he tried to find his target. While the fight progress, he felt his stamina waned. Every hit he blocked left his bones shaking from the force.

A hand suddenly grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against one of the metal containers so hard that he bounced off of it and hit the ground face first. He groaned into the damp grime and slowly climbed onto his hands and knees when his whole body was telling to stop, to stay down but he couldn’t. His pride wouldn’t let him. 

“Such fire for a little bird.” Blake thought he heard from the other man say but it was hard to hear with his heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck off…” He tried to get up but fell back onto his knees. The world spun and the shadows crept closer and closer despite the fires.

The same hand from before grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back. He hissed in pain and stared at the man that burned into his mind. “You… You going to kill me now?” He asked as his vision blurred and darkened. 

“No,” Bane replied. 

Blake’s brows furrowed in confusion. Not sure if he heard him correctly. “Why?” He whispered as the masked mercenary’s face grew more and more distorted as his consciousness slipped away. 

“You haven’t earned my permission to die, my little bird.”

\-----

Another explosion erupted but Bane paid no mind to it as he arrived at his destination. It was out of sight from any unsavory sort, but close enough to the main path that led out of the docks. He scanned the perimeter, searching for any movements before lowering the officer to the ground. He propped the man against the side of one of the containers and then set the taser next to him.

He moved to stand but found his eyes on the officer. Against better judgment, he kneeled next to him. His eyes roamed over the other man’s face, taking in all the small details he could under the low light. He reached out, his fingertips grazing along the bruising cheek before cupping officer’s jaw. Already, his skin felt cool against his palm but his breath was warm and steady. 

Two fingers slid down and felt the strong pulse that ran through his little bird. 

_A fighter through and through._

His other hand drifted to the center of his chest. He felt the burnt fringes from the worn straps and recalled the pressure of the taser bearing down against his chest plate. Untrained as the officer was, his instinct was spot on. He couldn’t help but smile beneath the mask, remembering how the fire burned in his bird’s eyes. 

His recollection slid away from the fight to the scene before it. The officer placing himself so boldly in front of the young boy. It made him think back to a simpler, darker times of his life…

_They weren’t that different after all…_

His smile slipped away. He pressed the comm as he reached into his pocket. “Brother?” He said as he pulled the GCPD shield from his pocket. The same one that he had stolen so many days ago. 

“I’m here,” Barsad replied. 

Bane took a tracker from another pocket and stuck it onto the back of the shield. “Do you have any news for me?” He turned the shield back around, sliding his thumb across its face before carefully tucking it into the officer’s pocket. 

“The princess is safe and sound. No disturbance whatsoever.” Barsad reported, “How’s your bird?” 

“Getting into trouble as usual.” He pulled the officer’s jacket closed around the deceivingly thin frame. “Bring a couple men into Dock # 9 for a supply run.” 

“You found anything interesting?” Barsad inquired. 

“There might be some useful items…” Bane studied the officer for a second too long before standing up. “You will find some food supplies but that is reserved for the orphanage. Do you understand?” 

There was a pause on the line before Barsad replied. “Understood. I’ll bring our more loyal men for this mission. You know, I don’t think the princess would be happy about this." 

“Then it’s best she doesn’t know.” Bane retorted, surprising himself. “This is none of her concerns and it would not interfere with our grander plan.” 

“Of course. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Barsad said, “Anything else you need from me, brother?” 

Bane turned away from the officer and walked back to the shadows. “Resume your post once you deliver the food. You shouldn’t have any problem in finding my bird.” 

“Very well, I’ll see you soon then,” Barsad replied. 

“Thank you, Brother.” Bane ended the line and headed back to the site. 

\-----

It was still dark out, quite chilly really but that didn't stop the party of men from venturing out to Dock #9. Judging by the thick, billowing smoke that came from that direction, she figured that it might be wiser to sit this one out. The amount of effort it would take to sneak in and take what she needed--assuming the food was still there--was too great. Though she had a feeling that would be the case but that didn't stop her curiosity. Honestly, she didn’t figure a couple gangsters would stir up this kind of attention but then again the world did change overnight, what with Bane ruling Gotham City…

She kept to the outskirts, not daring to venture too deep. She wanted to observe, not participate. Who knows, perhaps something interesting might pop up. 

Interesting came in the form of a familiar man, slumped on the ground like a marionette whose strings were cut. 

Her heels clicked against the ground as she approached the man. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She muttered, cocking her head to one side. She pursed her lips and turned her head in the direction where she had seen the parked car. It wasn’t too far… She bit her bottom lip as she weighed the pros and cons (and there were a lot of cons). She eyed the pitiful man once more and let out an exasperated sigh. “Today is your lucky day, Boy Scout. I am feeling generous, even though you did put me in the slammer.” She chided and went to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading this story (despite the long pause between chapters), thank you! Again I hope you enjoy the story.This one came out much longer than I had anticipated. 
> 
> Please let me know of your thoughts and I hope you enjoy this piece. 
> 
> Thank you~
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	13. Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing he noticed--besides his aches and pain--was the cold. It was really cold. Goosebumps covered his torso and his nipples were so hard that it hurt. His gaze fell from the room to himself, where the comforter pooled around his waist, leaving his naked, bruised chest exposed to the elements. With absolute trepidation, he lifted the comforter and faced the reality: he was naked.

A groaned wormed its way through his parted lips as his eyes slid open to a dimly lit, blurry room. A room he didn’t recognize. His eyes fell shut as he shifted on the bed with another groan. All the aches and pain came in full force now that there was no medication to stifle them. 

Slowly, he rolled onto side and buried his face into a pillow. Even taking a breath was painful, let alone moving his exhausted form. He swore that he felt every one of those bruises that Bane had so lovingly delivered. 

Bane.

He shot upright as the memory of the night came crashing down. He remembered everything: he remembered entering the dock, the feel of a jawbone break against his bat, Jason, and Bane...

Bane.

A trembling exhale expelled from his lips and to his surprise, formed into soft, rolling wisps before his eyes. It was enough to break him out of his daze and woke the rest of his senses to all that was around him. 

The first thing he noticed--besides his aches and pain--was the cold. It was really cold. Goosebumps covered his torso and his nipples were so hard that it hurt. His gaze fell from the room to himself, where the comforter pooled around his waist, leaving his naked, bruised chest exposed to the elements. With absolute trepidation, he lifted the comforter and faced the reality: he was naked.

Bile rose up his throat as he searched himself for any new marks--tattoos or brandings--on his person. Perhaps he was being irrational. He had no recollection of _that_ taking place. He also doubted that Bane was the sort of person, to begin with, but with all that occurred, he couldn’t be too sure…

“Well, that's a refreshing sight.” A very familiar, feminine voice commented. “Never thought I would see a man worried that someone might’ve taken advantage of him during his most _vulnerable_ state.” 

“I ain’t blind.” He huffed, trying to appear cool instead of spooked. “I know I’m pretty.” He had been told that and received propositions when he was younger. It was one of the many reasons why he got into so many fights. Thankfully, he was one of the lucky ones who didn’t have to go through it. That didn’t mean that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. After all, there were a lot of things that a desperate person would do to survive. 

“Good to know that you acknowledge it. Not many men would.” the thief replied, stepping into the room. “And if it makes you feel any better, your dignity is intact. You should thank me. Who knows what would happen if I left you there for Bane’s men.” 

Blake could name few outcomes. One included his own death.

 _You haven’t earned my permission to die..._ A shiver tore through him. He turned from his thoughts to focus on Gotham’s infamous thief. “Thank you for helping me.” 

“I prefer an I.O.U. then a thank you.” She remarked, crossing the room.

Blake’s gaze followed the thief before darting pass her to the dresser behind her. Propped up on the dresser was a crack portrait of a happy family on a yacht who was smiling for the camera. “I see that you made yourself quite at home here…”

“Despite what many people say and believe, I’m not dumb.” She quipped as gracefully took a seat on a plush chair that looked more like a throne than an apartment furniture. “I know better than to take dangerous men into my home. Last thing I want is for you two to create a mess.” She sat poised in that chair, looking more like a queen upon a throne than a thief that broke into a stranger’s home. It was that sort of natural confidence that got her into the homes of many well off, horny old men. Yet, it wasn’t as flawless as it first appeared. 

There was a slight tension to her shoulders that Blake had seen before. Combined that with her nervous glances toward the curtain covered window next to her confirmed that something was wrong. It was then that her words sank in.

“Two?” Blake cocked a brow. 

She stared at him for a long moment. Her dark inquisitive eyes revealed nothing before she gave a strained sigh. She turned to her left, reached over the small table and plucked a small, dark object--another thing that Blake failed to notice right away-- and tossed it onto the bed. 

Blake grabbed the item and turned it over in his hand. His eyes widened while his breath caught in his throat as he came face to face with the GCPD Shield. It wasn’t just any badge either. It was his own, the same one that he had lost down in the sewers. He assumed that he lost it in the scuffle with Bane but that was not the case. Not entirely at least. 

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask how she got it when his thumb brushed against something that shouldn’t be there. He furrowed his brows and turned the badge to see the live tracker that was stuck onto it’s back. It was an obnoxious thing that looked too big for a badge this small. Then again, it wasn’t like whoever planted it wanted to be subtle. Whoever planted it wanted the message be loud and clear: We’re watching you.

“You’re sure there is only one of them?” Blake asked, removing the tracker from his badge. 

“Unfortunately, it's one of the few that matters.” Selina gave terse sigh. “You have a knack for attracting trouble, you know. But then again, you go out of your way to find them.”

“It's a talent.” Blake drawled. 

“It would explain some of your habits.“ She reached down and picked up a metal baton from the floor. She pressed something along the base, causing the device to whir. This time no hand obscured Blake’s view as it transformed before his eyes. Thin panels parted ways as a blue light climbed up the rod through the grooves, before emanating an angry spark. “Also explain some of your toys.” She tossed him a look. 

“It just makes me an interesting person.” Blake retorted as his eyes strayed from the rod to the table. He squeezed the badge and sat up taller. “My phone.” 

She took her finger off the button, allowing the device to revert to a simple baton. “You need to let your cop buddies know that you’re alive and well?” She stated more than inquired. “They were calling you quite often.” She grabbed the phone from the table and tossed it onto the bed. 

“How long have I been out?” Blake asked, disregarding her question and comment. He quickly picked up his phone and checked the screen. There were over twenty miss calls and over a dozen text messages waiting for him. 

“Half a day.” She informed. 

Blake frowned and ignored all the pending messages. Instead, he quickly dialed Patrick’s number and brought the phone to his ear.

The phone only rang once before Patrick’s panicked voice entered the line, “Holy shit, Blake? Is that you? What the fuck happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Did Jason made it back?” Blake asked, turning away from Selina and slid his legs out from under the blankets as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, the kid made it back but he hadn’t said a word since he returned.” Patrick informed. “God, the strangest thing happened. Bane’s goons came by the orphanage and delivered the missing food--”

“Give Jason the phone.” Blake interjected. “Please.”

“Ah, ok. Um, give me a sec.” Patrick replied, followed by the sound of his footsteps. “You know Gordon tried to reach you.”

“I saw the missed calls. Felt like everyone was trying to get a hold of me.” Blake said. He raked his fingers through his hair and winced when he brushed against a welt. Damn he was a mess.

“Well, what can you expect when you went barreling into a gang’s territory--which by the way, what happened?” Patrick asked.

“A lot.” Blake could hear the creak of the ancient door along with the soft shuffle of kids. 

“Hey, sorry,” Patrick began, his voice was softer now. “I didn’t mean to wake you guys, but I got someone on the line for the for you, Jason.” 

There was a long, agonizing pause. One that made Blake squirmed with worry. What if Jason doesn’t accept his call? Did something happen to Jason when he was fighting Bane? Did the other guards found Jason before the kid managed to escape? The thoughts came pouring into his mind, flooding his skull with possible explanations to Jason’s behavior. 

It all came to a stop thanks to the sound from a creaking door and the faint breath of a child. 

“It's not your fault, Jason.” The words tumbled from his lips. “None of it was your fault.” He stated with more conviction in his voice. “You did what you thought was right. You did it to help others.” He could hear the slight tremble in the kid’s breath and felt a wave of sadness washed over him. “Don't blame yourself for any of this. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.” There was a soft, faint whimper on the line. The stubborn brat was putting on that same bravado that he was known for, even though he probably wanted to break down and cry. “You don’t have to worry about me, ok?” 

No response.

Blake shut his eyes and lowered his head to his free hand. “Jason--”

“Did you win?” Jason’s voice sounded so small and shaken that Blake almost didn’t recognize him.

It made the lie taste all the more sweeter. He wanted to lie. Honest to God he wanted to lie. He exhaled slowly. “No… No, I didn’t win, but I got out of it in one piece.” 

There was a small huff on the line. Something most would just disregard but not Blake. No, Blake saw that minuscule action as a win. He let his hand fall away and a smile touched his lips. “I am pretty sure it's well past curfew. You should get some rest.” Blake said, “Remember, none of this is your fault. Oh, and take it easy on Patrick. He’s new.”

Jason gave another huff in response before Patrick’s voice cut through with a “Thanks” and then the sound of a door opening and closing.

“How does he look?” Blake asked.

“Less shell shocked than before. Think he was annoyed that I didn’t leave him alone.” Patrick sighed. “What happened Blake? Where are you? If you need me to grab you then--”

“No.” Blake cut him off and thought back on the tracer on his badge. “No, I can manage. Stay with the kids and Father Reilly, yeah?”

“You sure?” Blake could hear the frown in Patrick’s tone. “Are you ok? Don't lie to me.”

“I’m surviving.” Blake replied. “Look I got to go.” 

“Blake--” Patrick started.

“I’m not dying,” he assured. “I just need to go now. Sorry.” He ended the line before Patrick could ask any more questions. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a long, deep breath. 

“... The kid is a little brother or something?” Selina asked, reminding Blake that he wasn’t alone.

The officer shook his head. “No. He’s one of the wards of the city.” 

The curiosity melted back to that expressionless mask. She turned away and idly peeked out from behind the curtains to see the darkened city. “I’m sure you know what happens to kids like him. I’m also sure you know how cruel it is to dangle a carrot in front of a starving kid.” She stated. “If you care that much about him, then adopt him or cut ties completely. It’ll be less cruel that way.”

“It’s kind of hard to adopt a kid when you have a violent offense to your name.” Blake countered.

She turned in surprise and cocked an elegant brow at him. “Was that before or after the badge?” 

“Before.” Blake replied. “Having a violent offense under your name doesn’t look good. It especially does not look good when the victim was your social worker. ”

A laugh bubbled out of her, genuine and honest. It caught her off guard, leaving her stoic facade in ruins but that was fine. She shook her head and covered her smile with a hand. “You thought it was a good idea to punch a member of the government.” 

“In front of a cop.” Blake added.

More laughter spilled from her. “Wow,” she breathed, “And they still let you join the force.”

“The cop who saw it all was the one who recruited me.” Blake informed. “He thought it was hilarious.”

“Here I thought that the GCPD didn’t have a sense of humor.” She remarked. “You didn’t try to get it expunged?”

“The guy could only do so much. Honestly the fact that he was vouching for me despite my record was more than I could have ever expected.” Blake admitted, “Wouldn’t want to push my luck and besides if I had the opportunity again, I’d still punch that prick.”

Selina shook her head again as she got up from her throne and crossed the room. “You’re an interesting man, Officer.” She twirled the metal rod in her hand before stopping next to Blake. Her piercing dark eyes gave him an obvious once over at his mostly undressed state before offering the rod like a peace offering. “Hopefully that luck still stands.”

“Just got to wait and see.” He took the baton and watched her drift to the door. “Hey, wait--my clothes?”

“Hanging on the rails. They were soaked through and still kinda wet. You might be better off checking those drawers for clothes.” She nodded to the dresser. “It probably wouldn’t fit you--you’re practically a twig compared to the original owner--but it would at least be dry.” 

Blake gave a stiff nod. “And the keys? I doubt you lug my scrawny ass all the way here.” 

She shot him a wry smile. “See it as part of my payment for my good deed. But don't worry, there’s a lot of cars on the streets. If you know how to hotwire one, then you should be fine.” She stepped through the doorway and out of his view. “Also, try not to get killed out there.” She chimed as her steps faded in the distance.

Blake gave an exasperated sigh, rolled off the bed and starting his hunt for clothes while not freezing his balls off. 

It took some time before Blake exited the building in his new--loose--attires and armed with only his baton. He looked around the empty streets, passing by the abandoned cars and searched for any sign of danger. There was a lot that he needed to process but very few places where he could go to do that. He can’t go to the orphanage. He couldn’t go to Gordon or any of the officers, not when he had someone watching him. 

His steps slowed to a stop. His shoulders turned rigid and a stubborn scowl spread across his face. He whipped around and scanned the area for any signs of his stalker. His grip tightened around the baton. “I know you’re out there!” He shouted, his voice echoed faintly in the empty streets. “Instead of dicking around in the fucking shadows, why don’t you just show yourself?!”

In hindsight, this was a bad idea. If Selina was there, then she would question her choice in saving him. Heck, he would’ve question himself but right now he was pissed and scared and he wanted to know who the fuck was following him. “Come on you goddamn fucking pricks! I’m ready for you!”  
Except he wasn’t ready. 

At first, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. At least not on the streets but then moved from the edge of his peripheral drew his gaze upward to the tall surrounding buildings around him. 

There, standing on one of the rooftops was a silhouette of a lean man. That man gave him a half-hearted wave.

\-----

A wry smirk tugged at Barsad’s lips as he looked down from his perch to the bird on the streets.

 _Are you going to fly away now?_ He thought to himself. 

The bird didn’t fly away, not at first. Instead, he lifted a hand and delivered the universal sign of “Fuck off” before continuing down the streets. 

Barsad shook his head. The more he learned about his Brother’s bird, the more he is questioning his taste. 

He pressed the comm. “Your bird should be returning to his lonely nest. I doubt he’ll be going back to the orphanage.”

“Did he saw you, Brother?” Bane inquired. 

“He did. I even gave him a wave just in case.” Barsad reported as he gathered his things.

“What about the thief?” Bane asked, his voice was a little stern. It made Barsad pause for a moment.

“She left the scene with your bird’s vehicle.” Barsad replied, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t worry dear brother, your bird is in one piece. But if you want, it shouldn’t be that hard to track her down.” 

Bane grunted. “No need. At this point, she had served her purpose well. She gave us what we needed and she’s a bright woman. She knows it is unwise to go against our goals. Though, if she does become a nuisance, then I’ll make an example of her.” 

“Right,” Barsad cleared his throat. “I’ll continue my watch. Let me know whenever you feel like switching places with me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Stay sharp, Brother.” Bane replied.

“You too, brother.” He ended the call and started down the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter~ 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and I do hope you enjoy the scene. 
> 
> Tracker Lucifer


	14. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake made it back to his apartment in one piece. He showered, dressed in his own clothes and then promptly knocked out in his own bed. After that, he stayed at home to plan his next move. Three days had passed since then and yet he had never made it passed his living room.

Blake made it back to his apartment in one piece. He showered, dressed in his own clothes and then promptly knocked out in his own bed. After that, he stayed at home to plan his next move. Three days had passed since then and yet he had never made it passed his living room.

Everything that occurred had the chance to settle and stew in his worn-down mind. It made him realize just how cornered he was. 

There was nowhere he could go to. He couldn’t go to the orphanage, Gordon or anyone else without taking his persistent tail with him. Of course, there was a chance he could shake the guy off but that was assuming there was only one guy. Selina indicated that he only had the one prowler, but how can she know for sure?

More importantly, how long were they following him? Sure, they came clean about it a few days ago but they did it with the badge he lost in the sewers, which was well before Bane made his debut in Gotham Stadium. Hell, it was even before Bruce went missing. Could they had been following him this entire time? If so, how much do they know? Also, why him?

He frowned. There was a flurry of theories fluttering in his skull like trapped butterflies but none of it came close to answering that question. He was just another no named officer of the GCPD. Heck, he only became close to Gordon after he broke the rules and got his ass handed to him by Bane. Even then that didn’t take off until after he “saved” Gordon from the hospital. He wasn’t like Foley who had political ties. He wasn’t even a dirty cop who had affiliations with the mob. He was, as far as he knew, the bottom of the totem pole. Yet, for some odd reason, Bane decided to give him his own personal stalker.

 _Maybe Bane saw him as a threat?_ The thought barely finished before he was choking on water, spilling some on his shirt and shorts. 

“Right, because Bane was _absolutely_ terrified of him...” He wheezed, wiping the water from his lips and set the empty water bottle on his crowded nightstand. 

_Wouldn’t that be a riot?_

He glanced across from where he sat on the bed, toward the towel-covered windows. His eyes lingered as he absently chewed the inside of cheek thoughtfully. With a sigh, he slid off the bed and made his way to it. The faux curtain brushed against the back of his hand as he pushed the towel aside to face his city. Immediately, he squinted under the harsh light. 

Outside was a deceivingly, sunny day in Gotham City. It was the sort of day where one would expect warmth and for the streets to be filled with life and angry commuters. Not the chills that seeped through the windowpane or suffocating silence from the barren streets. Unfortunately, this was their reality now. 

His dark eyes lifted from the cracked asphalt, ignoring the neighboring building next to his for the one across the street. Sitting diagonally from him was another beat-up apartment complex that looked just as dilapidated as his own. There was nothing really interesting about the other building, except for the sniper rifle that was perched on a window sill. Its muzzle was pointed straight at him. 

The first time he spotted it, he was alarmed. Adrenaline slammed into his system so suddenly that he couldn’t move. He was like a deer caught in the headlights. If the guy pulled the trigger, Blake was certain that his gray matter would splatter across the floor and bedsheets, looking like some morbid, modern artwork you find in those fancy galleries. 

Now, though, he scowled in annoyance and let his curtain fall back into place. He walked out of his bedroom and into his equally dark living room. His place was a mess. Scattered papers and emptied water bottles nearly covered every flat surface of his living quarters. His taped together map of Gotham City crunched beneath his feet as he made his way to the kitchen to grab another water bottle from the fridge. His food supply was dwindling but he could make it stretch. He had done it before.

He closed the fridge’s door and guzzled down some water when he heard the distinct crackle from the radio. His eyes fell shut as his chest grew tight. 

_Who was it going to be this time? Gordon? Patrick? Father Reilly? Jason?_ They all had tried to reach him but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. After all, how was he going to explain it to them without causing a panic? Not that avoiding them was mitigating the situation in any way, but at least this way keeps them safe.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, are you still hiding?” The familiar voice his partner chimed through the line. “I know you’re there and I don’t plan on backing off. Unlike the others, I got all the time in the world. So are you going to be a major dick about it and leave me hanging or are you going to man up and answer?” 

Blake swallowed hard and tried to ignore the guilt that twisted in his gut like a blade. “Fuck…” He cursed, then turned around and headed for his living room, where the radio sat on his coffee table, next to a couple of plastic bottles. He snatched the device and brought it to his mouth. “I’m here.”

“About time. I was ready to perform my rendition of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ if you didn’t answer. I know you love my singing qualities.” Ross drawled. 

“You mean your screeching? Yeah, I don’t miss it.” Blake sat down on his couch, raking his hand through his hair. This time it was less painful. The welts were fading away, along with his bruises. “Who tattled on me?” 

“Who else? Patrick.” Ross scoffed. “Also I figured something might’ve been up. You stopped contacting us down here. So, I thought that things might’ve gotten crazy in your neck of the woods, and lo and behold, it did. I can’t believe you had another run-in with Bane… Look, I know you got a thing for big guys, Blake, but if the guy is telling you no then he might not be into you.”

“Fuck off.” Blake harped, picking up the pen from the table and eyed the messy notes in his notebook. Most of it was crossed out and the rest were a jumble of unanswered questions. 

“But really, you went after Bane? Again?” Ross asked.

“One of the kids from the orphanage went after a gang that stole their food. I went after the kid and Bane just happened to be in the neighborhood.” Blake frowned at that thought before scribbling in his notepad.

**_Did Bane followed him to the docks?_ **

“Ah, so that’s what happened.” Ross hummed. “So you tangled with Bane, got knocked around--”

“Hey, maybe I won the fight?” Blake proposed.

“--Got knocked around and then you went silent for a few days.” Ross continued as if Blake didn’t interrupt him. “Patrick said you contacted him a day after the fight so… what happened in between then and now?” 

“I needed time to figure some shit out.” Blake said. 

“Sooo… did you figured anything out?” Ross asked. 

“No.” Blake added another question mark to his last sentence.

“And that’s why you’re avoiding people?” Ross asked. “Did something happened besides you getting knocked around?”

“No,” Blake shook his head even though Ross couldn’t see him. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Ross asked. “It’s not the first time you had your ass handed to you. Heck, it’s not even the first time _Bane_ handed your ass to you--”

“They gave me back my badge.” Blake tapped the pen against the notebook. 

“What? Your badge? Didn’t you lose that thing back in the…” Ross trailed off.

“Yeah…” Blake replied as he jotted down another question.

**_Were they following him this entire time?_ **

His brows furrowed in concentration. A lot had occurred since his first fight with Bane. So much so that his heart started to race in his chest.

**_Do they know about the kids?_ **

His pen grew still as he frantically reached back into his memory. Patrick mentioned something about Bane or maybe it was Bane’s men. What was it? What was it!?

“That’s why you’re dodging everyone.” Ross stated. 

“What else could I do?” Blake snapped and the memory surfaced. He brought the pen to his last question.

**_They know about the orphanage. At the very least, they knew about the theft and returned the food._ **

They had to know his affiliation with Gordon. Hell, they must’ve known his affiliation with Ross--His eyes snapped to the radio and his voice shriveled in his throat.

The radio. His shitty backup radio that he never once used again until he lost his good one during his second excursion down in the sewers. He remembered the stench and the humidity down in the tunnels. He could still feel the weight of the broken mask in his hand right before he dropped it into the currents. He still felt cold fear seeped into his veins. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t alone that day. There was someone else down there with him and they might have had his radio. 

“Ross, I g-g-got to go.” Blake stammered. 

“No.” Ross cut him off. “Don’t you run away or else I will start singing all of Queens’ best hits.”

“You don’t get it, Ross.” Blake hissed. “What if someone is listening?” 

“Then I’m a dead man.” Ross started with unnerving ease. “But the way I see it, the odds for me doesn’t look good no matter what.”

“Ross--” Blake started.

“Let me finish before you psych yourself out.” Ross said. “I’m not giving up but I’m not delusional either. I know the stakes are not in our favor and I’m pretty sure you know the odds out there isn’t good either. That’s why you’re fighting so hard, to begin with. It’s the same reason why you keep diving headfirst into a situation without thinking it through. Whether that is smart or not is questionable, but the fact is you do it to try to save everyone.” A deep sigh came through the line. “I know you still want to save the city. I know you still want to fight, so I’m telling you that nothing is stopping you. I’m just saying that maybe you should be smarter about it or more reckless. That depends on you. You got a glimpse of their cards after all.” 

And he did. 

They knew about the orphanage. They know where he lives. There was a high chance they know about Gordon, Patrick, and Ross. They were watching him and potentially listening to him. They more or less knew all his moves and yet Bane didn’t kill him. 

_You haven’t earned my permission to die._ Bane told him that. What the masked merc meant by it, Blake didn’t know. He knew other officers who had done less incriminating activities than him, who died in Crane’s courthouse. Perhaps, Bane didn’t see him as a threat because Blake was pretty damn sure if there was any threat against Bane’s plans, Bane will come down on that person like a storm. 

_But they do see Gordon as a threat,_ Blake was certain of that as well, but again there hasn’t been any direct actions against the commissioner. Honestly, this could just be some elaborate ploy to mess with his head or... His brows furrowed as his pen scribbled across the paper.

**_Was there something wrong with their plan???_ **

“You still there Blake?” Ross interrupted his thoughts. “Did I got you all choked up with my speech or something?”

“Can’t you tell?” Blake replied, setting his pen down as he stared at the question. “You know I get misty-eyed whenever you go off on a tangent and trying to be all heroic.” 

Ross let out an airy laugh. “God, you’re a prick. Did I at least get your head out of your ass?” 

“Maybe a little bit.” He needed more information. At the very least, another glimpse of Bane or his stalker... His mind wandered to the orphanage, of the older boys who came back to St. Swithin. 

Kirk.

“Was it enough?” Ross asked. 

Blake exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I think so.” He confessed. “Look, I gotta get back to work. I’ll talk to you when I have some leads. Try not to get killed down there.”

“Only if you stop visiting, Bane. It's not good for your health you know?” Ross said. “Goodluck up there.” 

“Thanks.” Blake ended the line and got up. He headed for the door and stepped out into the hall. He knocked on his neighbor’s door and waited. There was silence and then angry footsteps before the door swung opened and Blake came face to face with the muzzle of an unlicensed pistol. 

“What the hell do you want?” His neighbor groused. His scowl was practically telling him to fuck off already. 

Blake took a patient breath. “Can I borrow your car?”

“What the fuck?”

\------

Barsad was falling asleep. It had been days since the bird went anywhere. He almost thought that somehow the cop managed to give him the slip, but that was laughable. The copper’s sneaking ability was as subtle as a stampeding elephant. Besides, he saw the guy peeked out of his window again. He probably had hope that Barsad would abandon his post but unfortunately for him, Barsad takes his job seriously. Even if he was dying from boredom.

It was disappointing though. The cop was entertaining. Sure, he was a pain in the ass and stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have, but he had to give the man some credit. He wasn’t the brightest opponent but he was feisty and determined and somehow gained Bane’s attention. The latter was a feat that very few had achieved. 

Though, he wondered how much longer would Bane pay attention to a bird who refused to fly. Barsad knew that it wasn’t injuries that kept the bird in the nest. The officer did walk the entire way back to the apartment and if his brother wanted to, Bane would have no problem in snapping the little bird’s wings. So, he knew it wasn’t that but perhaps the last fight (or maybe his appearance) was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Either way, the bird hadn’t reappeared since he arrived. 

_Come on…_ His mind groused. _Do something. Anything. Fuck…_ As much as he would deny it with every fiber of his being, he was hoping that the bird will fly again. 

That hope was starting to wane when a movement caught his attention. He lowered the rifle, peered down the scope and straightened in his seat. 

At the base of the building was the bird. The officer made a beeline for a beat-up looking white truck, where he unlocked the driver's side and climbed inside. 

A smirk curled on the sniper’s lips as he grabbed his things to go. 

Perhaps, the bird still had some fight in him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that I hope you all enjoy. Slowly, getting back into the rhythm of things now that life slowed down a bit. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on the chapter and again, thank you for taking the time to read this growing story. 
> 
> Thank you, 
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	15. Devil is in the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake glanced at the rearview mirror and adjusted it. He checked the side mirrors as well and to his chagrin, he couldn’t see his tail at all. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Bane was practically a ninja. It would make sense that he would align himself with other ninjas. The fact was, he may not be able to see his stalker but he could still feel his eyes on him.

Blake glanced at the rearview mirror and adjusted it. He checked the side mirrors as well and to his chagrin, he couldn’t see his tail at all. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Bane was practically a ninja. It would make sense that he would align himself with other ninjas. The fact was, he may not be able to see his stalker but he could still feel his eyes on him. 

_Good._

“Hello?” A young, hesitant voice drew his attention to his propped up phone, which he stashed in one of the cupholders.

“Kirk?” Blake smiled despite how he felt, “Hey, how is it going?”

“It could be better…” Apprehension and suspicion colored the kid’s voice. “Patrick said you wanted to talk to me. I dunno… I think he might have mistaken me for Jason.”

“No, it wasn’t a mistake.” Blake swallowed the hard knot in his throat. He didn’t want to do this, but at the moment it was one of the few options he had available. “I wanted to talk to you. I want to talk about Bane--”

“I can’t.” Kirk hissed. “You know I can’t talk about him--”

“Hey, hey…” Blake replied with a soothing tone. “I’m not going to force you to tell me anything that you’re not comfortable with. I also know that sounds like a bag full of shit but you know I won't push you, right?”

“...I don’t have to tell you anything?” Kirk asked, sounding a bit wary.

Blake nodded even though Kirk couldn’t see him. “Yup. You could also lie to me if you want. I won’t take it personally but I do need information.” 

“About Bane.” Kirk repeated. 

“About Bane or whatever you’re willing to tell me.” Blake elaborated. “Do you understand?”

“...Ok, fine…” Kirk whispered. “What do you want to know?”

“A lot of things, but let's knock out the questions you won’t answer: What is Bane’s plan?”

Silence.

“How long has Bane been in Gotham?”

Again, silence.

“Where can I find Bane’s base?”

More silence.

Blake turned a corner and glanced at the mirrors. Nothing. “Do you know anything about the Gothamite that Bane was talking about? The one that has the trigger.”

Nada.

“This is stupid.” Kirk mumbled. 

“Maybe it is.” Blake agreed. “But there is no harm in trying, is there?” 

The kid let out a huff but didn’t deny it. 

“Ok…” Blake racked his brain and glanced at the rearview mirror. “Have you ever seen a scraggly looking guy in fatigues? You know, those camouflage uniforms ” 

Kirk let out an exasperated sound as if to say, ‘Yes, who hasn’t?’ 

“Did one of those guys carry a big gun? Like a really big gun.” Blake inquired. 

“What?” Kirk sounded confused and partly startled. “All of Bane’s men have guns.”

“The guy I’m talking about is different.” Blake explained, “His gun is much bigger. It’s longer than the sort of the guns you see around here.”

“Y-you mean a sniper rifle.” Kirk replied with a slight tremor in his voice. 

Blake felt his chest grew tight. Part of him hoped that Kirk didn’t have a damn clue what he was talking about, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. “Yeah, a sniper rifle.”

“Does he look like he hadn’t slept for days?” Kirk hastily asked, clearly agitated. “You know, like how Father Reilly gets when he can’t sleep.”

“I--I don’t know.” Blake admitted. The few times he faced his stalker, the other man was either in the shadows or behind his gun. “Maybe.” 

“Stay away from him, Blake.” Kirk stated. “He’s bad news.” 

“Why do you say that?” Blake asked, trying to ignore the sudden spike of adrenaline. Just who was this guy? 

“The guys said that he never misses. It doesn’t matter how far you are or even if you’re in a building. His bullet will always find you.” Kirk explained. 

“Who said that?” Blake asked. 

“Everyone.”

Blake squeezed the wheel and made another turn down the empty streets. His eyes flickered toward the mirrors again. “All right… Anything else I should know about this guy?”

“He doesn’t talk much but I guess he’s close to Bane. Sometimes they--him and Bane--would talk in some funny language.” Kirk reported. “I don’t know what they’re saying though. Not sure if anyone knows what they’re saying.” 

That was interesting. So, his stalker was close enough to Bane that they would exchange private conversations with one another. He had to be Bane’s right-hand man or at the very least his confidant. If Blake wanted information, then his stalker would be the perfect person to go to--assuming that the asshole doesn’t shoot him dead. Though, that was also peculiar. Why would Bane set someone that skilled on him? If he was Batman, then hell yes. Gordon, sure. Even Foley made more sense than him. All of them pose as some sort of threat, not him. 

“You still there Blake?” Kirk asked. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just trying to process all of this.” He made another turned into one of the major roads and peered through the windshield. The familiar rows of corporate skyrises laid before him. On either side, he spotted bare-boned vehicles and broken lobbies. “Thank you for telling me all of this, Kirk.”

“You’re welcome…” Kirk replied quietly. “Blake, Jason said--Did you really fight Bane?” 

“Twice.” Blake replied, trying not to sound too smug. “It sounds impossible, I know, but I did and I managed to get out of it in one piece.” He joked then felt his smile slipped as a memory surfaced. “Or… Or maybe it’s not that impossible.” His gaze dropped to his phone. “A while back, you said ‘He didn’t kill Jimmy’.” He pressed his lips into a line. “Were you talking about Bane?” 

Kirk went quiet once more, but this time the answer was loud and clear. 

“Who did?” Blake asked.

“...Some guy.” Kirk mumbled. “I don’t know who he is but he was working in the tunnels.”

“So another of Bane’s men.” Blake stated.

“Not anymore.” Kirk interjected. “He died.” 

Blake’s brows furrowed. “How?” 

“Bane--Bane killed him.” 

The information slowly sunk into Blake’s mind. Gordon mentioned that Bane had no qualms in killing his men but this felt different. The way the commissioner described his kidnapping, Bane killed the merc for leading Gordon into their hideout. It didn’t matter that Gordon wasn’t coherent during the travel, Bane saw that punishment was warranted in that situation. 

But killing Jimmy’s killer? What example was Bane trying to make? As unfortunate and maddening as it was, another dead kid in Gotham was just another dead kid. It didn’t hinder or jeopardize Bane’s grand scheme in any way…

 _And yet he made an example out of the man._ Blake bit the inside of his cheek. Despite his curiosity, he tucked that information aside for another day. He turned his attention back to his phone. “Thank you, Kirk.” He said, “I mean it, thank you. I know this wasn’t easy but thank you for giving me something.” 

“...Are you going to go after them?” Kirk asked. 

“I am.” Blake replied without an ounce of hesitation. 

“Why?” Kirk asked, “They already won, Blake.” 

“Maybe they did, but that is not going to stop me from trying.” Blake calmly replied. “Even if I’m alone in this, I will not stop fighting.” He sighed softly. “But don’t worry about that. I know the orphanage is not in the best of state and I know you and Jason are not exactly friends but… I’d appreciate it if you helped them out when you can.” 

“I’ll try, Blake.” Kirk replied solemnly. “Be careful.” 

“I’ll try. Thank you again, Kirk.” Blake ended the line and cut through another corner till he saw the familiar, looming building of Wayne Enterprises. 

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as he squeezed the rubber cover of the steering wheel. He still couldn’t see his stalker but that didn’t matter. They wanted to follow him, fine. He’ll give them something to follow. 

He’ll give them something to chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter~ It's not the most exciting chapter but I hope its still interesting. 
> 
> Again, many thanks for taking the time to read the story. Pardon for any grammatical issues and spelling. I'm trying to catch them all during my edits. 
> 
> For people in the U.S., hope you're enjoying the holidays. 
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	16. A Songbird's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An electrical crackled buzzed through his earpiece, in which he pressed the button to accept the signal. “I swear to god, I will shoot your pet.”

Everything that he had said before, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to take it **all** back.

Barsad gritted his teeth and resisted the twitch of his anxious trigger finger. On the other end of his rifle, more than a few stories down the building was the officer dragging another unconscious guard into the shadows. 

Considering the bird trapped himself in the nest for a couple days, he expected the officer to be nervous and cautious. So when the officer distanced himself from the orphanage and Gordon, Barsad wasn’t surprised.

What he didn’t expect--and he’ll admit that it was stupid because he should’ve seen it coming--was the officer to throw all sense out the window. It was not like the bird flew headfirst into their armed men but he came damn close.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Barsad groused to himself as he watched Blake discarded another gun into a dumpster. There was no doubt that the officer wasn’t the brightest bulb but honestly, even the dumbest officers wouldn’t throw away a gun. Especially if they intend on being a pain in the ass, which the bird was becoming. 

This wasn’t even the first altercation. This was the fifth one in the few days since the officer left his nest and he doubted it would be the last. It would not be long before word started to spread about the bird insistent meddling and infect the minds of other Gothamites.

Worst of all, this all took place under his watch.

“Just give me a reason...” Barsad muttered as his finger grazed the trigger. 

The officer--unaware of Barsad’s threat--moved away from the unconscious guard and kneeled next to one of the gutters. It was obvious that words were being exchanged with the other officers. 

Barsad raised his gun a little, securing his aim. He could imagine the shot as clear as day. There was no wind or any obstruction that laid between them. It would only take a single shot that would end this stakeout permanently… And perhaps cost him his own life… 

An electrical crackled buzzed through his earpiece, in which he pressed the button to accept the signal. “I swear to god, I will shoot your pet.”

“He’s been acting out.” Bane stated in that annoyingly calm tone. Hell, he almost sounded amused.

“That’s putting it lightly.” Barsad grunted as he watched the bird. “You don’t sound too concerned.” 

“Should I be concerned?” Bane inquired.

“That depends if you want your bird to live long enough to the end.” Barsad quipped, “Because, at this point, he seemed determined to shorten his lifespan.”

“I heard he had been caught in a few skirmishes.” Bane replied.

“More than a few. He’s getting quite bold ever since your last fight with him.” Barsad remarked. “Maybe it’s getting to his head.”

“Perhaps...” Bane replied but did not sound disturbed by it. “What is he doing now?”

“Conversing with the other officers.” Barsad reported. 

“Most likely his partner.” Bane replied, “They had exchanged words before he left his nest.” 

“So you’re telling me that his partner is to blame for his sudden reckless streak.” Barsad scoffed. “Maybe I should give the man a personal visit.”

“Are you saying that my bird is too much for you, Brother?” This time there was no disguising the humor in his voice. Bane was amused and it was something that Barsad was witnessing more and more whenever the bird was mentioned. It was… different. At first alarming but over time it became refreshing. It was a nice change from the tone that carried in their main mission. 

“No.” Barsad huffed, offended by that thought. “He’s hardly a challenge. He is just making it tempting to clip those wings, but I doubt you would appreciate if I injured your pet.”

“I trust that you would know whether an action would be needed or not, Brother.” That was evident. Why else would Bane stick him with babysitting duties after all.

If Barsad was being truthful--and it was hard for him to admit it--the bird hasn’t done anything that warranted any actions. A warning perhaps but otherwise his actions had been more of the same with his execution being sloppier and noisier. “Perhaps you might’ve knocked out all the valuable senses from him. For someone with his history, you would think he’d have more of a survival instinct.”

“What do you mean?” Bane inquired.

“Besides running headfirst into our men, he hadn’t been entirely discreet about it.” Barsad reported. “People will start talking if he continue this streak.”

“Is that what he did today?” Bane asked.

“Yes,” Barsad replied, “Our guards has a predictable pattern, so much so that your bird should be able to figure their schedule. Yet he always seems to make his appearance while they’re in the area, despite the risk.” After all, the idiot refused to pick up a gun. 

“Hm…” Bane hummed, almost thoughtfully. “Where was this latest altercation?” 

“Nowhere important.” Barsad said. “I expected him to create more noise around Crane’s court, Blackgate or even City Hall.” All the locations that made it on the news. If the officer wanted to make a statement, then it would’ve been out there, not here. 

“Where?” Bane repeated. 

“Again, nowhere important. The only interesting landmark in this area would be the city’s water and sewer facility.” Barsad commented. “Besides that, there is nothing around these parts.” 

“And the other locations?” Bane inquired, disregarding his side comments. 

Barsad’s brows furrowed. “You mean his other skirmishes?” He paused and thought back on previous bird attacks. “...The last one was not too far from here.” The same can be said about the other incidents. It wasn’t a straight line, but they all occurred in this general direction. 

_Where was this bird going?_

“I see…” Bane replied with that calm tone of his. “The Princess is requesting for an extra pair of eyes on her and her scientist tonight. She feels uncertain how useful Mr. Fox is and would require some assistance if he proved to be unworthy. I feel you would be best suited for this.” 

Barsad closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a line to smothered all the expletives from escaping. “Very well, brother. If that’s what you wish.” He exhaled his frustration. “I assume that you’ll be watching your bird then?”

“I’ll be answering his call, yes.” Bane confirmed. “Head for the Diamond District. I can take care of it from here.” 

Barsad grunted in affirmative and reluctantly packed up his things. He was in no hurry to take up his new duties. “Hopefully you’ll be able to knock some sense back into him.” 

“We shall see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter from the perspective of the unexpected (and involuntary) wingman. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	17. The Monster's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Blake? Where have you been, son? Patrick and I’ve been trying to reach you. He mentioned that you called him out of the blue but then you disappeared again.” 
> 
> “Sorry, Commissioner. I was trying to get back my bearings.”
> 
> “Are you ok, son? He said that you had another altercation with Bane.”
> 
> “Don’t worry about it, Commissioner. I’m doing better.” 
> 
> “We could meet up--”
> 
> “That’s not necessary, Sir. I’m fine. Trust me.”

“Blake? Where have you been, son? Patrick and I’ve been trying to reach you. He mentioned that you called him out of the blue but then you disappeared again.” 

“Sorry, Commissioner. I was trying to get back my bearings.”

“Are you ok, son? He said that you had another altercation with Bane.”

“Don’t worry about it, Commissioner. I’m doing better.” 

“We could meet up--”

“That’s not necessary, Sir. I’m fine. Trust me.” 

“If you say so, son… Look, during your absence, there’s been some headways with Captain Jones. A contact is in order.” 

“Ok. I don’t need the overall details, just a time and place and I’ll try to get there.” 

“Try? Officer--”

“It’s complicated, Sir. But I will try to meet with you and the others.” 

“Ok… I’ll send you the coordinates and the time.” 

“Thank you, Sir.”

\-----

The sewers still smelled like a sewer. The stench still assaulted him but not as strong as the first time. The place was still a maze but he was better prepared this time around.

Did he still felt like that dumbass idiot in a horror movie that was about to walk into his demise? Yes. 

He inhaled the musty air through his mouth--ignoring the idea that he was breathing in human and rat feces. His shirt was already sticking to his frame and his shoes were nearly saturated in sewage. With a grimace, he continued down the lonely path, feeling the baton bumped against the side of his thigh. He walked the damp walkway, only slowing down whenever he reached an intersection. He scanned his surroundings, before lowering his light down to his folded map. All over the images and paths were scribbled notes that made Blake wished he had worked on his penmanship a little more.

It was a mixture of directions, some were old and others were new. He took what he could from the smeared notes of Selina’s writings and did his best to map out how to get back onto that trail from where he entered. The journey was much longer and it was so much harder now in the unnerving dark, where the only light came from his flashlight. The bombs severed the electrical lines down here, leaving everything in absolute darkness. Without his light, he wouldn’t be able to see his hand even if it was right in front of his face. 

Soft chittering caused his head to snap to the sound, followed by his light, only to see the naked tail of a rat disappear behind a corner. He shut his eyes and forced out a breath. “Get it together, Blake.” He chastised himself as he folded up his map. “You got this.” He pocketed it and turned back around to where he was originally facing. With a sharp inhale, he continued to walk. 

Each step was another step deeper into the unknown. He could only hope that he was on the right path. Though, it wasn’t like the destination was the goal of this whole trip, far from it. It only gave him something to do in case this fell through, which he hopes doesn’t fall through. It would suck if it did. 

“The guy must’ve told him…” He muttered to himself. “He had to tell him.” Otherwise, why else would Bane post a man outside of his apartment? He knew his stalker was following him and had been watching him. He also knew that guy must be reporting back to the big guy of all of his recent, reckless activities. Bane had to take the hint. He just had to. 

Buts what if he doesn’t care? 

Blake stopped in his tracks. 

What if Bane didn’t care about the guards? That would explain why his stalker hadn’t taken a shot at him. Hell, there wasn’t even a warning shot. Both Gordon and Kirk had described Bane killing his men without an ounce of hesitation. Maybe they were disposable. Maybe what Blake was doing wasn’t enough. It would’ve pissed off any normal street gang or mobster but Bane wasn’t like them. Bane wasn’t like anyone he knew in Gotham. So, what would grab his attention? 

“I don’t know…” Blake let out a defeated sigh. 

This was a mistake. This was a stupid mistake that wasted valuable time that he didn’t have. What the fuck was he trying to do by being down here? He couldn’t get to Ross, not down here. The paths to the officers would’ve been blocked. Hell, there was a chance that the path to the broken cowl was buried as well. There was nothing useful in this trek whatsoever. A total waste of his time and effort and resources. 

“Fuck…” He turned around and began to retrace his steps. 

“Going so soon?” 

Blake whipped around toward the voice, his free hand snatching the baton from his belt. The light darted from one end to the other but could not find the speaker. The only thing the light revealed were the branching pathways and the shallow current next to his platform. He gritted his teeth as his eyes desperately searched the bottomless shadows surrounding him. 

He sucked in a breath. “I’m a busy man.” He proclaimed, taking an unsteady step back. His light wandered absently in search of the voice. “I can’t waste my time waiting on someone who may or may not show up.” 

“Then why are you here, Officer?” The voice sounded like it came from all directions. “Why come down here, in the dark?”

Blake swallowed hard. “Where else would you find monsters except in the dark?” His eyes darted almost frantically for the speaker. 

“Where indeed?” The voice spoke, sounding far too close for comfort. 

Blake whirled around, his thumb pressed down onto the button causing the baton to spark to life as he raised his flashlight toward the monster before him. 

The light shined over the mask, making the thin metal tubes shimmered like polished, gnarled teeth from a rabid beast. Pale, predatory eyes flinched under the harsh light, before narrowing in annoyance. 

Blake blindly stepped away, lowering the light just a fraction as Gotham’s reckoning came into view. 

The mercenary was enormous, standing at least a head taller than him with a body mass to match it. More than that was the presence that filled the tunnels as it did on the docks. It was the same presence that brought a city to its knees and made the whole nation watch helplessly. 

Bane peered down at him and canted his head. “You found your monster, Officer. Now, what do you plan to do?” The inhuman, intelligent voice inquired with such a calm tone that it would’ve irritated the hell out of Blake, but not now. Now, he couldn’t even move from his spot, frozen by the mercenary’s stare. Primal instinct shouted at him to run, to fight, to do something, anything! 

He let out a trembling breath as he forced himself to straighten his posture because like hell was he going to cower to Bane, even though part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted him to look away from the piercing stare but his pride kept him grounded and stupid. He stared right back at the terrorist as his thumb slid off the button. 

The soft whir and crackling noise faded into the background. Along with it was the flashing blue light as the taser reverted to a baton. The action drew Bane’s attention down to the officer’s hand and then back to his face. There was curiosity in those dangerous eyes and also intrigue. 

Blake tried not waver as he hooked the baton to his belt. “T-to talk.” He croaked, “I want to talk.” He quickly added to hide his shame. Now was not the time to lose his shit. 

“Really?” Bane retorted, “From what I heard, the GCPD aren’t the sort to talk.” He took a step toward the officer and instinctively, Blake took a step back. 

“Well, you didn’t give me much of an option, now did you?” Blake quipped, keeping the light on Bane and mindful of the merc’s reach. “I mean, I haven’t exactly beaten you in a fight and I’ll be stupid to think that I can outrun here.” He gestured to their surroundings.

“So talking is your solution?” Bane inquired as he approached.

“Not really.” Blake carefully stepped off the platform and into the shallow current. “I mean, talking productively had never been my strong suit. Shit talking, on the other hand, I am a bonafide Olympian.” He swallowed another knot. “But again, my options are extremely limited. I can’t even imagine a surprise attack would work on you.” If anything, that would only lead to more dead cops. 

“You would be right.” Bane agreed, stepping into the shallow waters with Blake. “Though, do you think speaking to me would help your circumstance?”

“No,” Blake answered honestly. “But there’s no harm to it or at least it can’t get any worse.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Bane retorted and they both knew that he was right. There were other things worse than death. Blake had never experienced it first hand and he doesn’t plan to either. 

“If it was someone else, maybe.” If it was the Joker, well… he wouldn’t be approaching the Joker at all. Or at least he wouldn’t be this close to the psychopath but Bane was different. It was hard to articulate it but he could feel it in his bones that Bane wasn’t like the other criminals. “But with you, I haven’t earned my permission to die yet. Not even after messing with your guards.”

Something darted across those calm, steely gaze. Too fast for Blake to identify it but the merc seemed almost… amuse. “And you think you are safe because of that?” 

“No,” Blake scoffed, “I’m sure if you wanted to, you could break me in half without a second thought. Hell, you even had your chance before when I couldn’t fight back. Even that one time in the tunnels when I didn’t even know you were there.” Bane could’ve snap him like a fucking twig and he wouldn’t even had the chance to process it. 

“And yet here you are.” Bane started to circle him like a shark. “Alone and away from the light.”

“The way I see it, the light is no different from the shadows.” Blake retorted, turning to keep his flashlight on Bane but that was easier said than done. Bane was a shark in the waters here in the sewers, while Blake could only fumble and do his best not to fall flat on his ass. 

“Your fellow officers would disagree.” Bane retorted. 

“Well, I don’t normally see eye to eye with my fellow officers.” Blake shot back. “I’m sure you know that.”

“What makes you think that?” Bane asked, not concealing his amusement which aggravated the officer. 

“Why else would you keep a cop’s badge?” Blake said, sounding more like a statement than a question. “This isn’t some gang initiation and I don’t think that you keep trophies. Otherwise, you would’ve kept the cowl instead of my badge.” He swallowed hard. “You don’t do things without a purpose or reason. You’re methodical and probably have everything planned out, leaving nothing to chance. What I don’t understand is how I fit in all of it.”

A huff expelled from the larger man and for a moment, Blake swore that he got closer. “How arrogant of you to think that you fit in it at all.”

“Am I wrong to think that?” Blake stepped back, blindly kicking away some of the debris in the water while keeping his eyes trained on Bane. “Or its normal for Gotham’s reckoning to hold back his punches?” His lips curled into a wry smirk. “So why?” He pressed on. “My money is on my pretty face but you don’t seem to be the superficial sort. Though, I could be wrong. I mean, I did meet with some of your men, my stalker included. They aren’t the easiest on the eyes.” 

Another huff escaped the mask and the circle seemed to be even smaller. “It’s interesting that you choose to use this opportunity to focus on the insignificant details.”

“Like I said, I don’t have time to waste.” Blake retorted, “So why spend the few seconds I do have on questions you will never answer?”

“You believe that I would be generous enough to answer these insignificant questions of yours.” Bane’s steps grew slower but it could be a trick of the light. 

“You got nothing to lose.” Blake pointed out. “As far as I know, none of these questions would interfere with your ‘grand scheme’.”

“Some would argue otherwise.” Bane replied, almost absently. “But there’s no reason for me to fulfill your curiosity.”

“Then why appear at all!?” Blake’s voice rose despite his effort. 

Bane stopped his idle walk and turned to the officer, pinning him down beneath his gaze. “The same reason why you chose to take this reckless risk, Officer.” His piercing eyes never wavered from the other’s. “Return to your nest, little bird and leave the shadows to the monsters.” He then stepped out of the light. 

Blake blinked in surprise and then madly whipped his flashlight all around in search for the merc. “Fuck.” He twisted suddenly then stumbled when his feet caught against some wayward trash. “Fuck.” He cursed again, raising his light to peer down each of the branching tunnels in desperation but he knew that the mercenary was long gone. 

He was alone once more.

\----

Blake lowered his head as the lukewarm water beat against his scalp. The water cascaded over his lean form, taking away the chill and the filth from his skin. He felt human again, instead of a piece a trash lost in the sewers. It was heavenly, and as much as he would love to linger, he knew he didn’t have that luxury. He grabbed the dwindling soap bar and scrubbed his tired body. It took a while to get out of the sewers and thankfully, he wasn’t ambushed by any of Bane’s men. Blake was pretty sure that they didn’t know about Bane’s little trip… just like how Gordon and others didn’t know about it either.

 _The same reason why you chose to take this reckless risk, Officer._

Blake shivered at the memory and focussed on rinsing off. 

There was a lot to unpack from his encounter. One being that Bane did show up and spoke to him. Of course, it wasn’t as productive as he had hoped but he didn’t get a concussion from it either, so that was a plus. Though, it did leave him with more questions than answers, like how could his questions affect Bane’s plans? It wasn’t like he was the triggerman and if Bane was trying to hint that he was, then he would’ve told Bane to fuck right off a cliff. 

“So how could I screw up your plan?” He muttered before turning off the water and then grabbed a towel. He dried himself quickly, putting on some borrowed sweats and an oversized T-shirt. He hung the towel on the rack and opened the door to see Kirk standing outside. “Kirk?”

“Hey Blake.” Kirk looked up at him a bit hesitantly. 

“Something up?” Blake asked. 

“Father Reilly said he wanted to talk to you.” Kirk reported. 

“He’s in his room?” Blake canted his head.

Kirk nodded. “Yeah…” He glanced at Blake’s clothes. “Are… are you staying over?” 

Blake nodded. “Yup. I’ll probably take off by morning though.” He gave Kirk a once over. “Is Jason still giving you a hard time?”

“Not as much.” Kirk shrugged and absently looked toward the hall. “Blake… Do you remember what we talked about?” 

“Hm?” Blake hummed as he stepped into the hallway. “Yeah, of course, I do. Why?” He turned to the kid again and noticed how rigid the boy was. “Kirk?” His frowned as concern began to build up inside of him. 

Kirk’s eyes darted to him, almost fearfully. 

Blake opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but then quickly closed it. He remembered their conversation now. More importantly, he remembered who they were talking about. Guilt struck him like a freight train. He overstepped when he said he wouldn’t, and now… “I’m sorry.” Blake apologized, “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” 

“You needed to know.” Kirk tried to shrug it off but it was clear that he was scared. “I get it.”

Blake let out a low sigh and lowered his eyes to his bare feet. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Kirk.” He lifted his eyes to the preteen. “From what you told me and from what I’ve seen, I don’t think you or any of the kids here should be worried. At least, you shouldn’t be worried about _Him_.” Everything else was a different matter, but right now, that wasn’t important. 

Kirk appeared skeptical, wary of Blake, which was understandable considering what he witnessed but gradually, his thin shoulders began to relax. “Ok…” He replied with a soft voice then turned away, “Ok.”

Blake nodded, keeping a careful eye on the boy. “All right.” He cleared his throat, “Wanna take me to Father Reilly then?” He asked, mercifully changing the subject. 

Kirk looked relieved and nodded. “Sure. Come on.” He said, taking the lead down the hall with the officer in tow.

\----

Bane looked out over the quiet city as today’s trip rolled around in his mind. Callous, nimble fingers absently toyed with a leather twine, creating and undoing the intricate knots that he had learned so many years ago.

It was bold and careless of him to meet with his little bird but he couldn’t help it. It was difficult not to feel the pull of the songbird’s call and perhaps he had hoped that indulging in it would satisfy the itch. At the very least, concluded that nothing was intriguing about his little bird save for the fire that shone brightly in battle. 

Except, he was wrong. If anything, meeting with the cop only made the curiosity grow. His bird was a living contradiction that infuriated Bane as much as it drew him in. He had seen the officer’s records and the level of self-awareness he held, which should have him lined him with League but instead, he fought against it. He held that similar belief that Bruce Wayne carried, the desire to protect this corrupt city. 

But he wasn’t Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne wouldn’t have met him in the shadows--especially not after being outmatched in it. He certainly wouldn’t have met him just to talk… The thought of it was laughable in its plain absurdity and yet that was what his bird did. His little bird braved the shadows despite how much he feared it, feared him. Bane was more than ready to pin the officer down as he had done so before. He was prepared for a fight, but not _that_. Intentional or not, his bird had caught him off guard. 

If things were different, then the officer would’ve been a candidate for the League of Shadows. There was a likely chance he would had failed due to his constant need to rebel that would push any master’s patience to the very brink. And yet at the same time, that stubborn determination could push pass any boundaries set before him. With structure and training, his bird would have been a formidable, fierce opponent. The sort of opponent that others would fear if not be enthralled... 

It was most unfortunate that things weren’t different. 

Deep in the room behind him, the elevator chimed as it’s doors opened. Bane didn’t spare a glance at his intruder. Instead, his eyes remained on the city before him. “Patrol went well, Brother?” 

“As well as one would expect.” The surly sniper reported as he joined him on the balcony, not bothering to try to disguise the sour tone in his voice. 

“And Mr. Fox?” Bane queried.

“Alive and well,” Barsad sat down onto the floor next to the doorway. “Mr. Fox does have some worth after all.” He unraveled his red scarf, then spread it over the ground before he taking one of his many guns from its holster. “The Princess figured that if we need to lure Gordon, then Mr. Fox would be a suitable bait. Also, it would look suspicious if the scientist died so abruptly.” 

“That’s understandable.” Bane agreed. The less attention on Talia, the better. 

“She was also wondering where you were.” Barsad remarked as he patiently dismantled his gun, setting each piece down with absolute care. “I guess she was hoping that you would be there to keep watch over her.” 

It was the duty of the protector to watch over their charge… “What was your response?” 

“That you were currently occupied with dealing with the military forces on the east bridge. You had to make sure that they weren’t getting any wrong ideas.” Barsad retorted before he blew a puff air through the barrel. “How was that, by the way?” He casually asked, “Did you manage to put them back in their place?” 

“Perhaps,” Bane replied, feeling a tug on his scarred lips. “But I doubt that would keep them in line for long.”

“Great.” Barsad groaned dramatically, picking up another piece to polish. “I guess I’ll be returning to my post by sun-up then.” 

“That would be most wise.” Bane agreed. “Report to me if anything occurs.”

“Will do,” Barsad huffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, woot~
> 
> I know the meeting was brief... sorry... :x I hope to make up for it in later chapters. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you guys enjoy it all the same.
> 
>  
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	18. Friends and Foes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of weeks had passed since his encounter with Bane. Between then and now, a lot had occurred. Most of it was setting up a face-to-face contact with the U.S. Military. Despite what Gordon implied, there was a lot more covert conversations and failed attempts before they were successful. Up until now, Blake avoided the meetings and failed attempts. He stayed back at the orphanage and only heard about excursions through late-night conversations whenever Patrick returned. He would’ve declined this undertaking was it not for the fact that another officer went missing.

A couple of weeks had passed since his encounter with Bane. Between then and now, a lot had occurred. Most of it was setting up a face-to-face contact with the U.S. Military. Despite what Gordon implied, there was a lot more covert conversations and failed attempts before they were successful. Up until now, Blake avoided the meetings and failed attempts. He stayed back at the orphanage and only heard about excursions through late-night conversations whenever Patrick returned. He would’ve declined this undertaking was it not for the fact that another officer went missing. 

As depressing as it was, it was becoming a common occurrence. It was a product of their situation which only heightens the tension. It made their dwindling group stand all the more vigilant for any potential threat that may come their way. Yet, even that couldn’t hold Blake’s attention. Instead, his mind wandered back to the scene in the tunnel. He must’ve replayed it a thousand times already in some desperate attempt to seek out every crumb of information. There was nothing, of course. At least, nothing new for Blake to probe and prod at. It stoked his growing frustration and what made it even more annoying was that he stopped scrutinizing Bane’s behavior. Instead, he focussed on himself. 

Why did he believe it was a good idea to do it alone? He could’ve brought a partner and had them hide somewhere in case shit hit the fan (which thankfully hadn’t occurred). Hell, he could’ve worn a wire to scene. That way he would have some sort of physical evidence (not like it would help in this situation). More importantly, he should’ve told Gordon about it and his stalker. But did he? Nope. He did none of that and hated himself for it. He hated that he acting like a coward but what could he do? He knew he was pushing the line when he knocked out a couple of guards. It probably didn’t help that he was making progress with finding an escape route for the trapped officers. Yet, neither action brought any consequences. That wasn’t to say that it would stay like that. Especially if he decided to bring Patrick or Gordon along for the ride, which Blake knew would be crossing that fine line. He was at a disadvantage. They knew about his occupation, his alliances, and the orphanage. If his toe so much as to breach that line, they would all be in danger. He wasn’t about to put the kids through that. He couldn’t--

A snap of a finger jolted him from his thoughts and became aware of the curious hazel eyes in front of him. 

“Finally back to the real world?” Patrick scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Blake. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Blake shook his head and then gave their surrounding a lazy once over. Tall buildings stood on either side, barely giving them enough space to fit a car but provided them the necessary cover that they needed. The rest of the team had their post to watch as Gordon gave Captain Jones the rundown of all they’ve been going through. 

“What is going on with you?” Patrick asked without warning. “You’ve been out of it ever since you came back.” 

“Well, the last fight took a lot out of me.” Blake shrugged dismissively and then turned his attention back at the slightly taller officer. “I’m still trying to get back my bearings. Unlike the first time, I don’t have a hospital to stitch me back together.” 

"I see your point, ” Patrick relented, ”Though, to be honest, I didn’t expect you to return my call.”

“That didn’t stop you from blowing up my phone with threats of an ass-kicking if I don’t come back.” Blake shot him a wry smile.

“Hey, I had every right to be pissed at you.” Patrick countered. ”You bolted out of there without any back up like a goddamn idiot.” He exhaled loudly. ”And when the kid came back all shell shock, well you can’t blame me for fearing for the worst. I should smack you for being a dumbass.”

"If I asked for back up, then that would leave Reilly and the kids vulnerable for an attack.” Blake retorted in a calm tone that surprised himself. He sounded mature. ”I knew I was taking a risk when I left for the docks, but I also knew that the orphanage was in good hands.” 

“D’aww, you’re making me blush.” Patrick rolled his eyes and rested his hip against the car’s door. “I get it--that doesn’t make the stunt any less stupid.” His expression fell somber. ”It _really_ messed up the kid.”

” I know.” Blake noticed it right away when he returned to the orphanage. Jason never verbalized it but he stayed close to him as if he was afraid that Blake would disappear the moment he looked away. It hurt to see that from a kid that was known for his bravado. It took a few days before Jason seemed more like himself, but every passing day brought another level of concern.

Blake let out a soft sigh. ”It’s a good thing that I’m still kicking.” He tried to smile but knew it was fading as soon as it appeared. He raked his fingers through his hair. ”Time?” He asked suddenly. 

“What?” Patrick looked taken back. 

“How much time is on the clock?” Blake elaborated. 

“Oh…” Patrick checked his watch. “Ten-minute mark. They have around five minutes to get back here without arousing any suspicions, which gives you even less to work with. You sure you’re up to it?” 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I know this city quite well.” Blake quipped. 

“So I’ve heard…” Patrick canted his head. “It ain’t any of my business but being around the kids, well, they talk about you.”

“And the precinct didn’t?” Blake looked skeptical at him. 

Patrick held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll admit, the old precinct love their gossip but then again, Bullock wasn’t the sort of person who would refer a rookie. Especially…”

“A rookie with a criminal record?” Blake cocked a brow. “If you must know, I can confidently say that I probably know how to navigate this city a lot better than any of you guys.” As ageless and stagnant as Gotham appeared to outsiders and even residents, those lived in the slums knew that wasn’t the case. The city’s innards were constantly changing as the criminal world became more and more sophisticated. If you don’t keep up with the changes, then the city will swallow hole and spit your body out for the cops to haul away. “I guess Bullock thought I was useful.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. 

“And he’s right.” Patrick smiled. “Man, Bullock must be happy that he retired when he did, otherwise he be shitting himself if he was still here.”

Which was true, Bullock would be shitting himself if he was there to witness all of this. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) a 6mm round saved him from that experience. 

Scuffing shoes drew the two officers' attention to the forefront. A few seconds later, Captain Jones and Gordon made their reappearance. The older man was whispering to the captain, who looked less arrogant compared to his first appearance. He looked as frustrated as they felt.

“All good?” Blake inquired as the two men approached. 

“As good as one can say about our circumstances.” Gordon retorted. “How does our time look?” 

“Slim.” Patrick glanced at his watch. “It’s cutting a bit close.”

“Did something happened?” Blake asked. 

“Just your run of the mill patrols. Nothing that we haven’t seen before.” Gordon assured. “Are you ready to return the captain to his team?”

“Yes sir,” Blake confirmed. He glanced over to Patrick. “See you back at base.” 

“Right. Try not to drive too crazy out there, wouldn’t want the captain to lose his lunch.” Patrick joked as he left with Gordon. 

“Of course…” Blake muttered as he climbed into the driver's side. He waited till the captain was settled before starting down the winding alleys. His eyes darted to the clock as the ticking sound resonated in his skull. They were cutting it close but Blake could handle it. He had to. 

“--Officer Blake.” Jones’ voice snapped him out of his concentration. 

Blake’s eyes darted to his passenger. “Sorry, what?”

“Your name is Officer Blake, right?” Captain Jones repeated, glancing at him before looking ahead. 

“Yeah.” Blake replied, “Why?”

“I feel like we have spoken before…” Captain Jones remarked. 

“We did. You didn’t like my questioning.” Blake responded with ease but he could feel a slight itch of wariness just lurking beneath his skin. 

“Ah, yeah. Foley mentioned that you tend to go against orders. It got you in trouble, didn’t it? You ended up squaring off with the masked mercenary.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t fun,” Blake replied. His eyes stayed ahead as he made the necessary turns and crossed the streets.

“Didn’t stop you from tangling with Bane again though.” He casually stated. “How are you feeling?”

“I am feeling better,” Blake answered. 

“You seem better.” The captain agreed then peered around as they made a turn. “Huh, you seemed to know your way around the city rather well.”

“You learn a thing or two from my neighborhood,” Blake replied almost absently. 

“You’re from the rougher part of the city? Me too.” Jones said with a slight smile to his face. “It always freaked my mother out whenever I snuck out past curfew but I didn’t care. I was an overconfident dumbass kid who thought he had his city figured out. Especially the neighborhood.” He chuckled. “I always knew which path to take and which one to avoid. I even kept track of my neighbors’ habits just to make sure I wasn’t caught.”

“Has your mom ever caught you?” Blake asked, just to make small talk but his mind was already starting to tune out the captain. His eyes darted to the clock again and the ticking resumed. 

“Yup and nothing beats a mother’s fury.” He shook his head. “Never stopped me though.”

“It made you want to break the rules, even more, didn’t it?” Blake remarked, spotting the familiar building. A few seconds more. 

“Exactly,” Jones agreed and then paused for a moment. “You know, the more I looked into this case, the more baffled I became. I’m sure you saw Bane’s record right? He isn’t a Gothamite. Hell, I don’t even think he’s from a city and yet somehow he managed to infiltrate Gotham and been hidden this entire time.” 

“He had Dagget helping him into the city. He probably took care of all the necessary documents to cover his tracks.” Blake said, feeling that sense of wariness return. 

“But can you imagine Dagget understanding this city like an average joe or a kid from the streets? I can’t. I doubt that Dagget was even aware of these hidden passages.” He gestured toward their passing surroundings. 

Blake squeezed the wheel a little harder as he made another turn. “Bane did say that the triggerman was a Gothamite. So who knows, maybe they are an average joe.” 

“Maybe,” Jones said. “So, how did you survived your second run-in with Bane?” 

“I knew how to play dead,” Blake’s voice was calm and light as if he wasn’t being interrogated by the man. 

“Really?” The humor in the captain’s voice barely concealed his obvious suspicion. “That’s all it took to survive a fight with Bane?”

“Must’ve been.” Blake spotted their destination and resisted the urge to sigh in relief as they pull up toward the back entrance. “Considering I’m sure as hell wasn’t winning the fight.” He turned to him, meeting the other man’s eyes with a cool expression. “Any other question, Sir?”

The humor never reached Jones’ eyes as he smiled at him. “No, that will be all for now. Thank you for the ride, officer. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He said as he stepped out of the vehicle. 

“I’m sure we will. Take care of yourself, Sir.” Blake said, waiting till Jones left the vehicle before pulling away from the curb and headed back to the orphanage. He glanced at the rearview mirror and squeezed the wheel hard enough till his knuckles were bone white. 

_That arrogant sonofabitch…_ His mind growled as he felt the anger surfaced. _That motherfucker--If he knew what I went through. If he had an inkling of what I’ve been doing while they get to go back to their safe and happy life--Fucking asshole. Mother fucking shit-talking asshole!_

A hiss slipped from between his lips as he tried to beat down the growing anger inside of him. Captain Jones wasn’t worth the time or effort, even if the insinuation pissed him off. There were other more important things to spend the energy on, like getting back to the orphanage. He swallowed his pride and focussed on the road. 

Along the way, he took unnecessary turns here and there, weaving through intersections and alleys like a confused rat. It made the journey even longer but it did take care of any tail that might’ve tried to follow him (if they weren’t following him before). He rolled out of another alley, made a left and sighed when he spotted the familiar building along with Patrick’s car. Though, his sense of relief was cut short when he noticed an unfamiliar military truck parked outside.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he slowly approached the scene. 

There were around three heavily armed men that stood next to the truck while their comrades hauled out boxes from the trunk and into the church. Standing next to the door was a fidgeting Susan. Father Reilly and Patrick were nowhere to be seen. 

Blake parked the car, climbed out and then slowly made his way to the main entrance.

Susan spotted him and looked like she wanted to call out but chose not to. The guards glanced at him warily, placing a hand on their weapons as a warning but nothing more than that. Blake tore his eyes away from them as he came up to Susan. “Are you ok? Are the kids all right?” He asked in a low voice. 

Susan gave a jerky noded. “I’m fine and the kids are all in their rooms.” She assured. 

“Father Reilly and Patrick?” Blake tossed the nearest guard a cautious look. 

“They’re in the kitchen with the rest of them,” Susan said. 

Blake leaned closer to her. “What is all of this?” His eyes darted toward the truck. 

“Supplies,” Susan answered. “Mostly food and water and a couple of first aid kits. Or at least that’s what they said.” 

“Ok…” Blake trailed, feeling the confusion bubbled inside of him. “I’m going to check on the others. Are you going to be ok here?” 

She gave another jerky nod. “I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile but her trembling lips could not form it. She was terrified and Blake would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. 

Blake nodded curtly then made a beeline for the kitchen. As he went, his dark eyes darted into the passing rooms just to make sure that none of the kids were down here. If things turned for the worst, the last thing he wanted was for those kids to be caught in the crossfire. 

With one more fleeting glance into one of the empty rooms, he turned to the kitchen only to collide into a solid, rigid form that made him stumble backward with an ‘oof’. 

“Sorry,” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent spoke in a soft tone. 

Blake turned toward the voice and met the tired eyes of a scruffy leaned built mercenary. Tired was an understatement. The man looked like hadn’t slept for years and stopped giving a damn about it. 

The merc cocked his head. “Do you plan on moving any time soon?” He spoke with a flat tone and a deadpan expression to match it. 

“Right…” Blake hesitantly stepped aside to clear the man’s path. 

“Thank you.” The merc replied without meaning it. He turned his head and peered back into the kitchen where he came from. “Let’s go!” He hollered. 

Just like trained soldiers, men filed out of the room obediently. All of them donned pieces of fatigues and body armor, some of which Blake recognized from the GCPD storage room. They were also carrying various sorts of weapons that hung from their holsters in full display. If pushed, Blake did no doubt that they would open fire on them in an instant. 

The only one who was completely unarmed was the man he bumped into and yet he was the one who left Blake shaking to the very core. Resting over the mercenary’s chest were large rounds that were meant to pierce through body armor from a long distance. They were the sort of ammunition that a sniper would carry. 

Those tired, muddled blue eyes turned to Blake for a second before the merc proceeded after his troops. 

Blake could only watch as the merc leave the premise.

\-----

It was nightfall when Barsad returned to base, feeling little smug from the trip. A part of him wondered if the officer would figure it out. His observation skills weren’t the greatest but the kid did have some instinct in him. Bane would be proud to know that the bird was capable of noticing the small details.

He crossed the short distance to the elevator and reached out for the button when the doors slid open to reveal the stoic, lovely face of a young woman. Almost immediately, his eyes dropped to the floor as if he was confronted by Medusa herself. He stepped aside for the woman--who hardly acknowledge the gesture. Instead, she walked past him as if he was never there. He returned the gesture by keeping his eyes forward as he entered the elevator. Without a glance at the fleeting figure, he hit the button for his floor. 

The elevator rumbled as it started to ascend. As it climbed, Barsad could feel a headache starting to form. It was never a good sign whenever the princess makes her appearance. It always meant that there will be more work or another body to dispose of. He hoped that it wasn’t the latter. He didn’t want to waste his evening dumping another body off into the river. He prefers to spend his evening in a nice peaceful setting. 

The elevator door let out a ping before the doors opened. He passed the threshold and into the expansive room. His eyes darted to the balcony and when he could not spot the large silhouette he headed for the kitchen instead. Leaning over the table, Bane was reviewing the maps of the city. 

Barsad let out a loud, dramatic sigh to announce his presence. “So, what brought _Her_ out from her hiding spot?” He asked, undoing his heavy vest.

"Probably the same reason why the little bird left his nest.” Bane replied. ”She suspects that Gordon might be up to something.” 

Barsad’s brows furrowed as he set the vest on one of the open seats. “Gordon has always been a threat. It’s why we initially planned for his demise… What did he do that made her so concern?” 

“His silence is what caught her attention. He stopped talking about their contacts or least stopped informing her of them.” Bane explained. “She feels like he is intentionally keeping her in the dark.”

Barsad looked thoughtful. “You don’t think so.”

“No,” Bane replied. “Despite the commissioner’s deceitful ways, he doesn’t seem to be the sort that would take a risk. Especially not when the stakes are stacked against him. He would be cautious during this endeavor and once everything is set, then he would invite her and Mr. Fox along.”

“We would need to pay close attention to them then,” Barsad pointed out, rolling his shoulders a little.

“I appreciate your willingness to volunteer for this mission.” Bane said, not bothering to hide the mirth in his voice. 

Barsad scowled in mock annoyance. “I wasn’t volunteering but it appears that you need someone capable to keep track of this intruder.” He cast a sidelong look toward Bane. ”You do know that it would save us both the hardship and effort if we just pick up your little bird. He probably has information regarding the intruder and I’m sure would have no problem in getting him to sing.”

"But if we proceed with that route, then you’ll be so bored, Brother.” Bane countered with ease. 

"Ha. Ha.” Barsad scoffed then turned his attention toward the map. ”I assume you will be taking over in keeping watch over your pet?” 

”Of course.” Bane replied. ”Have you made your delivery?”

"I did.” Barsad’s gaze down at the section where the orphanage stood. ”It will be a while before they experience any food shortages.”

"And the other officer wasn’t a problem?” Bane inquired.

"He was as docile as a sheep.” Barsad reported, but he did feel the cop’s anger drilling into the back of his skull. He knew that if the situation was different--and that there were no innocent bystanders--that officer would not hesitate to lunge at him. ”Though, I did get to see your pet as I was leaving.”

"Oh?” Bane finally tore his eyes from the map and focus on Barsad. “Did he recognize you?”

"Possibly,” Barsad said, “He didn’t create a scene but then I doubt he wants his allies to know that we’re watching him. Hum, maybe this would keep him in line.” 

“Do you believe that?” Bane asked. 

“No,” Barsad huffed in annoyance. “If anything, this would push the bird to be even more reckless. It’s a good thing that you’ll be watching him. You’ll be able to put him back in line if stray too far.” 

”Of course.” Bane agreed. “There should be food in the fridge. Rest now but I do expect you to start your research on these intruders. Keep me informed of all you find.” 

“Will do,” Barsad made his way to the kitchen. He might as well enjoy this moment of peace because he knows it will be a long couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took much longer than I would have liked but I made it! Just a warning though, this month looks like it's going to be crazy for me. So my updates will slow down quite a bit. :x 
> 
> Besides that, I hope you like the chapter! ^-^
> 
> \- Tracker_Lucifer


	19. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His fingers brushed against the white wingtip of one of the many bats that marked the city’s buildings. He had to give the commissioner and the remaining officers some credit. They all knew the risk they were taking in defying the new order in Gotham but persisted in the resistance. That was fine. Let them run around in vain with their hope to fuel them. It’ll be the thing that burns them alive.
> 
> _Would you watch that same fire consume your little bird?_

With the passing days, the evenings became increasingly colder as winter made its way throughout the broken city. It made the nights relatively peaceful with most of Gotham’s residents locking themselves in their homes. There were still some that boldly roamed the streets, especially knowing that the GCPD wasn’t around to stop them anymore. Their screeching tires and painted faces left many in fright. They were the spawn of a madman’s quest for chaos and insanity. There was no doubt in his mind that they certainly made themselves at home in this reborn city. Yet not everyone fell into that sort of path. His bird is one of them. 

His fingers brushed against the white wingtip of one of the many bats that marked the city’s buildings. He had to give the commissioner and the remaining officers some credit. They all knew the risk they were taking in defying the new order in Gotham but persisted in the resistance. That was fine. Let them run around in vain with their hope to fuel them. It’ll be the thing that burns them alive.

_Would you watch that same fire consume your little bird?_

He would. After all, this is what they were prepared for. It was what he expected from himself. Yet, he wasn’t sure if the fire would be able to reach him. Throughout his time in Gotham, he had seen countless men shatter under the weight of this corrupted city and many more after the start of the revolution. Even now, the city’s savior was on the brink of his destruction as he witnessed the beginning of the end of this cesspool. 

Officer Blake was different. He was born in this cesspool and witnessed the level of corruption that laid in the streets. He had no protected walls to keep him safe from the horrors as Bruce Wayne had. He had no one at all. His path should have been different. He should’ve been among the shattered men. He should’ve been another face in his growing army but instead, he stood in opposition to the cause. How could he see himself as a protector of the weak when he allowed himself to be controlled by the powers that prey on them? 

_And you want him to realize his mistake. You want him to come to terms that this revolution was a must. You can’t save a city that had festered in the filth for far too long. Instead, you need to cleanse it even if it does result in casualties._

_… But do you even believe that?_

His eyes narrowed at the stray thought. Not because of the doubt that it carried but because he doesn’t believe in it. At least not in the same way as his fanatic followers. Barsad--being one of the exceptions--vocalized it best: 

_"You’re not saving a city from its corruption. You’re destroying the city that killed the princess’s crazy daddy.”_

And wasn’t that the truth of the matter. It was a truth he saw when Talia approached him. It was the truth he saw shimmering in those soulful eyes. 

His hand fell away from the cold wall as he drifted deeper into the alley like a ghost. It wasn’t long before the mouth of the alley came into view. Through it was two skinny roads and an aged building with a chain-fence that wrapped around it. His eyes wandered from the fence toward soft sounds of footsteps. Down the skinny street to his right was the officer. 

The officer moved cautiously as he stepped out into the clearing. His head swiveled from one way to the other, searching for any possible threat that may appear. He knew the streets were not safe, especially not in the cover of night but this was the best option he had in these circumstances. If things do turn for the worst, then he had his baton ready at his waist. With one more look around, he turned his eyes downward as he kneeled next to a gutter. 

Words were being exchanged, especially with how the officer’s head was slightly tilted to hear whoever he was meeting with. It was most likely the partner. They had exchanged words on more than one occasion. The trapped officer even became the point of contact in organizing these covert meetings. He was also the man who managed to goad his little bird from his nest, which was something that Bane wasn’t sure if he approved or not. 

Though, part of him doubted that the altercation at the docks would have kept the bird in his cage. Barsad’s bold move to come in contact with the bird certainly didn’t deter the officer. His encounter with the young man did little to persuade him. Both actions seemed to have the opposite effect on the man. 

The officer reached into the gutter and pulled something out. What that was, Bane couldn’t see from his spot. Whatever it was, the officer pocketed it quickly as he climbed back to his feet. With one more exchange, the bird turned away and headed down the skinny road, away from Bane. 

Bane didn’t follow the officer. At least not from this route. His eyes flickered to the gutter and then retreated into the shadows. He took a longer route because there was no need to hurry. His bird had stowed his vehicle away from the meeting place to try to avoid gaining the guards’ attention. It was a clever move and the vehicle did go unnoticed. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the officer himself. 

“The fuck!?” A man’s voice boomed in the distance, disrupting the silence. Bane tilted his head toward the sound and unbeknownst to him, his pace quickened. He could hear the curses loud and clear along with the sounds of fists connecting flesh. All of that was drowned out by the electrical crackle and the deafening scream. He peered just around the corner and stopped.

On the ground was an unconscious guard who was convulsing uncontrollably. Steps away from him were his bird squaring off with the remaining guard. The guard was taller and broader compared to the little bird but was untrained and slower. He moved like a lumbering fool who put too much faith in his fists. The guard knew that all he needed was one solid hit to cripple the bird but to achieve that was easier said than done. 

The officer was in constant motion. Every strike was thrown at him he would duck or weave out of range. He didn’t bother to try to block the attacks, which was different from their first encounter. Instead, he searched for openings to exploit and struck back even though his punches didn’t count for much. 

This drove the guard to put more speed and weight into his punches, failing to realize the gaping holes in his defenses. Blake noticed it though. He dove under the guard’s punch and sprinted around the guard’s side. Even from where he stood, Bane heard the familiar crack of a human kneecap. 

“Agh!” The man bellowed in pain, collapsing onto the pavement as his leg gave out from under him. “You motherfuc--!” His cry was cut short when a metal baton struck him across the face. Before he could cry out again, the baton hit him again and again until the guard fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

The officer staggered back. His thin shoulders trembled with adrenaline and white clouds past his lips like a rolling storm. He stared at the two bodies for a second too long with his baton tightly in his grip. Warily, He tore his gaze from the slumped bodies to scanned the immediate area. When no threat was found, he continued onward. Unlike what Barsad reported, the officer didn’t bother to try to conceal the bodies. If this was anyone else, this would’ve been perceived as a bold statement against them. Not his little bird though. 

Bane’s eyes followed the little bird until he escaped from his view. The other man’s movements were stiff and slow. His balance was off as well as if he was putting most of his weight onto his right side. In this situation, getting far from the scene would be the better option, though… His eyes trailed back to the still forms of his fallen men. The risk would’ve diminished greatly if the officer took care of the guards’ properly instead of leaving the job half-finished. 

It was another thing that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t like the officer hadn’t killed before. He saw the footage of the construction site. The bird’s hands were far from clean but ever since then Bane could not recall him carrying a weapon besides - bat and the baton. It was one of the many things that Barsad complained about. It was also what he noticed at the docks and even tonight. Nothing was stopping the officer from taking the weapons from the fallen guards and, as far as his bird knew, there was no one watching him. So why not take advantage of the situation? 

_Are you trying to convince yourself that you’re different? That you’re better than us?_ He continued across the streets and into the next alley. 

He doubted that the officer would believe that. After what he had read about the rebellious bird, it was hard to believe that he would carry such thoughts. He seemed far too self-aware of where he came from and who he is. It was why the orphans migrated as they had, despite what he represented. Blake knew that he was no different from them. 

_No different from us._

Bane looked ahead, through the opening toward a large abandoned building. It was not like the other buildings who were ransacked of their things since Gotham’s transformation. The building was an old warehouse with windows barred, graffiti-covered walls and doors boarded up except for the garages at the base. It was the place where the officer stowed away his borrowed vehicle, which remained untouched. 

Bane frowned behind the mask and looked around the empty lot from the shadows. Could it be possible that the bird was caught? He hadn’t heard of any altercation on his way here. The officer was injured though, it was possible that he wasn’t able to fight back but he wouldn’t have gone quietly. His bird was anything but quiet. Before he could catch himself, he turned to backtrack when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

Stepping out into the clearing was the missing officer. His movement was much slower than earlier, almost intentional. His baton was still in his hand and his eyes searched for the potential threat that may be waiting for him. He knew he wasn’t alone, not anymore.

Bane watched the officer slowly make his away across the narrow lot to the open garage. Just when his bird was a few feet away from his goal, their eyes connected. It was almost as if the officer could see him but Bane knew that wasn’t the case. The reason why his bird even chose this location was the cover it provided, even though it gave the threat the same advantage. 

Bane didn’t move. His eyes locked onto the officer’s, waiting patiently to see what his bird would do next. 

_Would you follow your instincts as you had before, where you challenged me so carelessly and fearlessly? Or would you run away?_

Blake lingered there as if he was weighing those very options. It didn’t matter that he was hurt, he wanted to fight. It didn’t matter that the city and even its commissioner stood on a foundation of lies, the officer chose to protect it. There was nothing that could keep the little bird on the ground. 

_Perhaps he would be able to escape the fires after all…_

With the utmost reluctance, Blake looked away and continued for the waiting truck. 

Bane watched as the headlights sliced through the shadows as the vehicle pulled out of the garage, the lot before finally disappearing into the streets. He stayed there in the shadows, listening as the sound of the motor faded into the distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has finally slowed down enough for me to get this out. Hopefully, I can get back on schedule again. 
> 
> Again, many thanks to those who took the time to read this very long (and probably messy) story. I hope you all enjoy this piece an expect more in the future. :)
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	20. Precautionary Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what’s going on between you and Captain Jones?”
> 
> Blake blinked and looked at Patrick blankly. “What are you talking about?” He took the clean plate from Patrick and wiped it dry.
> 
> “You and Captain Jones,” Patrick repeated scrubbing the last dish before handing it to Blake. “I hate to break it to you, but the tension between you two is kind of obvious.” He pointed out.
> 
> Blake rolled his eyes and put away the dried plate before taking the last one from Patrick. “Nothing for you to be jealous about.”

“So, what’s going on between you and Captain Jones?”

Blake blinked and looked at Patrick blankly. “What are you talking about?” He took the clean plate from Patrick and wiped it dry.

“You and Captain Jones,” Patrick repeated scrubbing the last dish before handing it to Blake. “I hate to break it to you, but the tension between you two is kind of obvious.” He pointed out.

Blake rolled his eyes and put away the dried plate before taking the last one from Patrick. “Nothing for you to be jealous about.”

“Fuck you.” Patrick turned off the faucet. “And seriously, what’s going on?” He wiped his hands dry.

Blake pointedly focussed on wiping the plate in his hands. “How would I know?” He replied disgruntledly. “Somewhere, somehow, he got it in his head that I’m the bad guy.”

Patrick’s eyes widened a little. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” Blake put away the last plate then closed the cupboards.

“So that’s why things were getting heated between the Commissioner and the Cap.” Patrick sighed.

Blake turned to face Patrick. “What are you talking about?” 

Patrick gave out another sigh. “The Boss and the Cap been having some one on one conversation, without the team. After that, Gordon looked like he was ready to chew someone’s head off.” He frowned, “Why would he be suspicious about you? It’s not like you participated in the meetings unless requested.”

“I don’t know.” Blake let out an annoyed huff. “Maybe he thinks I’m working with Bane. That getting my ass kick twice was just some elaborate coverup to throw off any suspicion.” 

“That would be a stupid way to cover your tracks,” Patrick remarked. “But… at the same time, I can see where he’s coming from.” 

“Thanks,” Blake drawled. “It’s good to know that I come off as a suspect.” 

“Well, look at it this way: you are close to the Commissioner, you are present for most of the important conversations and you did survive two rounds with Bane,” Patrick said. “Which you never explained how you survived the second encounter.”

“I would if I remembered it,” Blake responded. “The only thing I could remember is the fighting, the explosion and then darkness. It was a repeat of the first attack, where I got my ass handed to me and then blackout.”

“Except Foley wasn’t there to save you.” Patrick stepped around him to the corner of the kitchen, where the cases of water bottles were stored. He reached in and grabbed one. “Did you drag yourself out of there by yourself or did someone else saved your reckless ass?” 

“Someone else, a scavenger.” Instantly, the image of Selina and her wry smile popped up in his head.

“Who didn't try to loot your wallet?” Patrick cocked a questioning brow at him as he twisted the cap off. 

“Well, they took Ross’ car so I guess that counts.” Ross’ car was a lost cause as far as Blake knew. At the moment, he has been taking extra measures to not lose the truck. Ross could make all the threats he wanted, but Blake knew he wouldn’t do anything. His neighbor on the other hand… 

“You ever broke the news to Ross about that?” Patrick asked with a touch of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, no…” Blake rested against the counter. “I’ll let him know after we get him and the others out of the sewers.”

Patrick shook his head wearily. “How are they holding up?”

“As best they could in their circumstances…” Blake lowered his eyes. “Bane’s men made sure that they have water, food and even medicine.” Though, that wasn’t to say that the experience was like staying at a hotel. They were only given just enough to keep the strong alive. The ones who were injured from the explosion had died or were dying, leaving the survivors to face the reality of their limitations.

“Well, isn’t that kind of them.” Patrick huffed sarcastically. “It is a good thing that Ross and others like him are keeping the team strong.” 

“Yeah…” Blake trailed off, remembering what Ross had told him. Most of the officers continued to uphold their duties and help Ross obtained the information that Blake needed to set up the covert meetings. If it wasn’t for them, then Blake was certain that they wouldn’t have progressed as much as they had. 

Though, not everyone stayed true to the badge. Fear and desperation could take a toll on anyone’s mind. He heard about the officers who tried to save themselves at the expense of others. To his surprise, Bane’s men didn’t take the offer. Instead, they turned away from the desperate officers which seemed to damn them even more since the rest of the GCPD found out about it. 

“We’ll get them,” Patrick stated, interrupting Blake’s thoughts.

“I know…” Blake met his gaze. They will get them out of there. At this point, he had narrowed it down to four potential spots for the breakout. The problem was that all of them had guards stationed around the exits. Sure, some had fewer guards on duty but their routes were unpredictable. In other locations, they had guards stationed everywhere but they had a more predictable routine. Blake was stuck weighing the pros and cons of each location. A lot was riding on this and god help him he makes the right choice. 

“How are things in your neck of the woods?” Blake asked. ”Besides the conversion between Gordon and Jones.”

” Well, we met up with Mr. Fox and Ms. Tate again.” Patrick recalled.

” How are they?” Blake inquired. 

“Good despite the situation. Surprisingly, they took our recommendation and kept moving locations.” Patrick replied. 

“They didn’t try to fight it?” Blake asked. Mr. Fox and Ms. Tate were from a different world. He doubted that they’re used to taking orders from anyone. 

“Nope. Mr. Fox looked quite lively if not a little tired. Ms. Tate though…” Patrick shook his head at the memory. “She is not too keen about being told what to do but then again she seemed to be a bit strong-headed type.” 

“I am not surprised. She was leading Wayne Enterprises at one point,” Blake pointed out. 

“Yeah…” Patrick trailed off with a curious look on his face that Blake couldn’t help but notice. 

“What?” Blake asked. 

“Just remembered a rumor I heard before all this shit started happening.” Patrick explained, “You probably heard it too since you were looking into Dagget. Remember when Ms. Tate first got the position and how Dagget was spouting off rumors on how the new executive got her position? Well, I guess it was just a rumor. She hadn’t said a word about Bruce at all.”

“Well, Dagget was an asshole,” Blake stated bluntly. The deadman didn’t realize he was being played by Bane until it was too late. “He was stupid enough to make a deal with the devil just so he could lead Wayne Enterprises.” 

From what he had read before, Dagget was gunning for that position for a long time. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had notes on every executive in Wayne Enterprises… Blake shoved the stray thoughts aside. There was no point in thinking about the case. The case was dead as far as he could tell. Right now they needed to free their fellow officers, get their asses out of Gotham and takedown Bane.

_There’s still the mystery Gothamite that could blow them to kingdom come._

“You’re telling me.” Patrick let out a soft laugh when a buzz caught both their attention. 

Blake grabbed his phone from his pocket and checked the screen to see the message from Gordon. He looked at Patrick to see that the officer was doing the same. 

“I guess we’ll be making contact with Captain Jones soon,” Patrick said and met Blake’s eyes. “And I guess you’ll be attending again.” 

“It seems like it.” Blake let out a sigh. “I’ll let Reilly and the volunteers know.” At least then they would be prepared during their absence. He could only hope that this meeting will go as quietly as the previous one but somewhere in his gut, he could feel the dread sinking in.

\-------

The metal stairs groaned beneath his weight as he climbed up the fire escape. He rolled the crick from his left shoulder as he crested the top. There next to the edge of the roof was the familiar giant who peered outward toward a neighboring building.

Barsad opened his mouth but went silent at the gesture of Bane’s hand. 

“We will look into Captain Jones. Be on your guard in the meantime.” Bane replied to the comm in his ear. 

Barsad quietly approached the other man. He looked over the edge, toward the familiar orphanage and spotted the beat-up looking truck that park outside of it.

“Very well… Good night.” 

Barsad’s eyes rolled to the corner of their sockets, witnessing Bane turning the comm off. “So, what did the princess want?” He asked, half turning to face Bane.

“Gordon had finally reached out to her and Mr. Fox.” Bane replied, “It seemed that they will be making contact with Captain Jones.” 

“She must be happy to be included after so long,” Barsad remarked. 

“You know she hates being in the dark.” And that patience had never been her strong suit. Bane looked at Barsad. “What have you found out about our Captain Jones?” 

“He has quite an extensive collection of medals to his name.” Barsad replied, “Served as a Marine and had climbed the ranks since then before becoming the government’s favorite Captain for sensitive cases like this one. He also has a history of working in the military’s Internal Affairs.” He canted his head. “The military provided us a reputable, decorated opponent.”

“It’s nothing that we hadn’t face before.” Bane retorted. His gaze turned sharper in the way that made any men squirm, even Barsad. “Is there more?” 

Barsad let out a sigh. “He’s been doing some research on your little bird. A rather thorough one at that.”

His eyes narrowed. “How thorough?”

“He was running through his records, both his time in the GCPD and outside,” Barsad reported. “He even looked into his medical record. I guess he wanted to make sure that the injuries he sustained were real.” 

“...It doesn’t take much for them to turn on each other…” Bane commented. 

“Normally it doesn’t.” Barsad agreed then gazed back to the orphanage. “I wonder if your bird is aware of the danger he’s currently in.”

“...How long till the next supply order is to arrive?” Bane inquired, out of the blue. 

“A few days from now. Why?” Barsad turned back to Bane.

“It might be time for the military to understand how we treat our intruders,” Bane stated. “We wouldn’t want them to believe that they have the upper hand.”

Barsad looked at him carefully but didn’t say what he wanted to say. Instead, he returned his focus on the orphanage. “...I’ll gather the men.” 

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for the road. I hope that all of you enjoy this chapter and feel free to let me know whatcha think. 
> 
> Take care~
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	21. A Message No One Will Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheel trembled in his hand as his seat jerked when they jumped the sidewalk. His dark eyes darted toward the swinging cross to his right, then up to the rearview mirror from where it hung. Like a barreling rhino, the tank burst into view, knocking down a light post in its wake.

The wheel trembled in his hand as his seat jerked when they jumped the sidewalk. His dark eyes darted toward the swinging cross to his right, then up to the rearview mirror from where it hung. Like a barreling rhino, the tank burst into view, knocking down a light post in its wake. 

He forced his gaze away as he tried to focus his frantic mind. He yanked the wheel right, nearly fishtailing over the icy asphalt as he entered the next road. He pressed down on the gas, making the speedometer climbed to levels that would scare the crap out of him on any other day, but not today. He passed another intersection, barely avoiding a military truck that nearly t-boned them. Unfortunately, his driving could not save them from the bullets that greeted them. 

The lethal projectiles sparked as it deflected against his door. One cause the left side mirror to explode in a hail of broken shards. Another shattered the rear window into a million pieces. 

Blake glance at his passenger who looked paler than death. Her eyes wide and mouth moved in rapid succession but her voice couldn’t cut through the sharp ringing in his ears. Instead, he returned his attention to the road. He exhaled slowly as his grip wrung the worn pleather against his palms. 

Behind them was the same military truck that tried to smash into them. Slowly but gradually they were gaining speed. The tank was nowhere in view but Blake knew it wasn’t that far. They were acting like a pair of wolves, with one in hot pursuit and the other ready to flank. 

_Don't get stuck. Whatever happens, do not get stuck._ If they end up at a dead-end then it's all over. He had no weapons besides his taser and that was nothing to an AK let alone a goddamn tank. He needed to get them to safety but to do that he needed to lose their tail. 

His eyes flicked up to the familiar street sign. An idea struck him there and then. 

_Is it worth the risk?_ He wondered. _But what other choice did they have?_

His jaw clenched hard before he yanked the car right again then slammed on the gas. The force shoved his body flat against the seat. The speedometer was practically having a seizure now as he cut corners and jumped more sidewalks. If these bastards wanted them, then they would need to work for it.

Their pursuers were determined though. The shooting stopped but the sound of the revving engine and the screeching tires announced their presence loud and clear. With every turn, they crept closer and closer to them. These guys were fixated on them, so much so that they failed to notice the small but important details. Details like the direction that Blake was going or how the street signs look like the ones they’ve passed moments ago. 

A hand grabbed his arm in a vice but Blake did not take his eyes from the road. He veered left into another street with the other vehicle practically kissing his ass. He ground his teeth as his eyes honed in on the approaching intersection. With a quick prayer, he blindly shifted gears and pushed the poor engine to its limits, forcing them through the junction.

The passenger must’ve been screaming her head off because he was pretty sure that he was. Though it wasn’t like anyone could hear them through the roar of crunching metal and squealing tires. The poor truck spun like a top across the pavement before a fire hydrant brought them to a sudden stop. Blake wheezed and squeezed the wheel as he dragged his eyes up from his lap. He glanced at his passenger and then straight ahead. Through the cracked windshield, he spotted the broken remains of his taillights along with the many pieces that used to be their pursuers. His eyes rose to the rear end of the tank--the one vehicle who seemed unfazed by the collision--and saw that it was already backing up. 

Blake cursed under his breath and clumsily grabbed the gearshift. The engine grumbled and sputtered in protest but still muster enough fight to move. He quickly twisted around in his seat then pulled the car into a hasty reverse. They peeled down the empty lane before righting themselves once the roads were wide enough. Before a second could pass, he changed gears again and gunned it. 

His eyes constantly darted to the rearview mirror in search of the tank. His ears even strained to hear it’s thunderous steps but all he heard was the steady rumble of the engine. Slowly, his foot eased off the gas, slowing the truck back down to the city’s speed limit. He let out a trembling breath then finally turned to his passenger. “Are you ok?” He rasped.

His passenger, Ms. Miranda Tate, looked alarmed and winded. Her hair was a mess and her bright blue eyes looked at him as if he was a madman. It wasn’t something that he could blame her for, especially after the stunt he just pulled.

He opened his mouth to apologize but she cut him off. “I’m fine.” She stated curtly. Her voice was as raspy as his. 

Blake nodded absently then looked back to the road. He glanced at the street signs and pictured the map of Gotham in his head. “What happened earlier… I know that was a bit crazy.” Understatement of a lifetime, he knows. “And I am sorry if I scared you--”

“How did you know that the tank would be there?” She cut him off again, sounding unusually coherent.

“What?” He looked at her.

“How did you know that the tank would be there?” She repeated and Blake found himself a bit taken aback. 

He had handled victims in horrific situations before. He had seen people shut down to near-catatonic states while others became aggressive. He also seen heroes who stepped up to the plate with their mind focussed on resolving conflict at hand or aiding law enforcement. Ms. Tate falls in line with the heroes but there was something off about it. 

_Why focus on that?_ He wondered. After everything they went through in a short amount of time, why focus on that? Why not on Bane’s sudden appearance? Or why they didn’t try to grab Fox when they had the chance? Or what’s going to happen to Captain Jones? Hell, what was going to happen to everyone in that building now that Bane was there?

“I didn’t,” Blake absently replied as he tucked the thoughts away. 

“What?” She gawked at him. “You didn’t know?”

“I’m not a mind reader,” Blake said dismissively, “So, I took a guess and thankfully I guess correctly.” 

“You guessed?” She repeatedly, her tone turning sharp as her gaze, “You could’ve killed us!”

“But I didn’t.” Blake countered in a tone that was almost as sharp as hers. “Also, if you don’t mind, can you please let go of my arm. I kind of need the feeling in my hand in order to drive.” 

She looked like she couldn’t decide whether to snap at him or slap him. Fortunately, she decided to do neither. She let go of his arm and settled back into her seat. Those steely blue eyes turned away to peer out of the passenger window. 

Blake watched her for a long second then turned back to the road. He forced himself to take a steady breath. He needed to keep his temper in line but it was difficult with obvious tension that filled every nook and cranny in this cabin. He glanced at her again then let out a deep sigh. “Like I said, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“I’m not scared.” She stated and Blake believed it. 

Before he could process more on that fact, his phone buzzed against his thigh. He pulled it out and quickly turned on the speaker. “Blake here.”

“Blake!?”

“What in the world happened, Son?” Both Gordon’s and Patrick’s voice spilled from the phone. 

“I don’t know, Sir,” Blake replied, feeling the adrenaline starting to wear off. “Bane and his men showed up and all hell broke loose.” 

“Is Ms. Tate and Mr. Fox all right?” Gordon asked.

“I am fine,” Ms. Tate replied. The irritation from before was replaced with exhaustion. “Unfortunately, Mr. Fox isn’t with us.” 

Blake’s eyes darted to her. “He stayed behind to give us more time to escape.” 

“Captain Jones and his men?” Gordon pressed. 

Blake went silent as reality started to bear down on him. “...They were captured as well... “

There was a moment of silence on the other line before Gordon spoke up, “Blake, I want you to keep an eye on Ms. Tate--”

“That is not necessary,” Ms. Tate retorted. “I am perfectly fine.” 

“She will be placed in a safe location. After that, I will meet with you and regroup.” Blake responded, ignoring the look Ms. Tate was giving him. 

“Son--” Gordon began.

“You heard Ms. Tate. She can take care of herself. Besides, me being around her would only increase the risk of being found.” He reasoned. 

“If we need to, then we can always take shifts,” Patrick added. ”But Blake is right, Ms. Tate might be safer without us hovering around too closely.” Not to mention that they were also short on officers...

Gordon let out a deep sigh. “Very well. We will send you the coordinates once we secure a place. Take your time, Son. I rather that you will be alive than dead.”

“Understood. Talk to you soon.” He replied, before hanging up. 

“Where are you taking me?” Ms. Tate asked, dropping the polite tone for wariness. 

“Somewhere safe,” Blake replied, providing no more details than that. Thankfully, Ms. Tate didn’t push for more information. He doubted she trusted him, but at this point, he didn’t care. His whole body was aching. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a thick black-and-bluish stripe that stretched from his left shoulder to right hip. He grimaced a little as he shifted in his seat, making the seatbelt bite harder against the bruise. With an exasperated sigh, he forced himself to concentrate on getting them to safety. 

”Do you think they are ok?” Ms. Tate asked, letting the worry touched her voice.

Blake turned at a corner and down the road where corporate buildings faded to smaller shops, grocery stores, and affordable apartments. ”I don’t know.” he replied honestly. He thought back to the chaos, to the loud gunshots that started the second Captain Jones cleared the room. He could still hear the panic screams as the gunmen filed in. The sudden surge of urgency to leave had set his mind into overdrive. He didn’t notice how Fox purposely slowed his steps or how he was no longer with them. He hadn't noticed until he turned back to see the gunmen surrounding the scientist and by then it was too late. 

”I thought it was your duty to try to encourage hope.” Ms. Tate commented.

”I do that with my actions.” Blake answered as he scanned for the familiar apartment. ”I was never good with words.” 

”I see…” she said. Her delicate brows furrowed as the vehicle slowed. ”Are we here?”

”Yup.” he pulled the car into the lot, taking up the space that used to belong to his partner’s car. ”Come on, ” he gestured and led the way up. Unlike his apartment, there was an elevator for them to take. The moment the doors shut though, he wished that they had taken the stairs. The same uncomfortable tension that plagued them in the back in the truck had followed them here, making the relatively short ride to the third floor unbearably long.

His feet absently tapped against the floor as he fiddled with his sleeve when a sharp pain shot up his arm. He looked down and lifted his sleeve to see the bruise that wrapped his arm. It was almost a perfect handprint from a dainty woman. ”You have some grip.” he remarked.

”It was a very tense moment. My apologies.” She looked down at the bruise with an almost sheepish expression on her pretty face. Almost being the keyword.

Blake shrugged his shoulders. ”It’s fine, ” he replied, lifting his head as the doors open. He walked her down the familiar hallway and took the keys from his pocket. He gestured to her to stand behind him, then slowly opened the door.

Inside the apartment was a softly lit living room with a connected clean kitchen. He gestured for Ms. Tate to stay before he stepped inside. He grabbed the baton from his hip then proceeded to make his round. He made sure to check the corners and locks of every room before letting out a sigh in relief. Despite all that occurred, the apartment was untouched. He returned to the living room. ”It's clear.”

Ms. Tate hesitantly stepped inside. She eyed the apartment with a look that Blake was used to seeing: judgment.

”It’s not much but you could stay here while we get everything sorted out.” Blake said, holstering the baton. “I am pretty sure there’s still some food in the fridge. If not then you probably could find stuff in the cupboards. Ross normally keeps his cabinets well stock.” He said as he started to make his way to the front door. 

“Are you leaving already?” Ms. Tate asked.

“You said you could take care of yourself.” Blake reminded, half turning to face her. “And I don’t think any of Bane’s men would find you here.”

”How could you be so sure?” she asked, sounding so skeptical.

”Because this place isn’t in Ross’ file.” His partner moved recently and hadn’t had the time to update his information. ”You should be safe here. All the windows are secured. Be sure to keep the door lock and your phone charge. We’ll keep you updated.” His hand rested on the cool knob as he paused. He met her gaze. ”We will get through this.”

She didn’t reply, even though it's clear she wanted to. 

He didn’t wait for her response. He turned around then exited the apartment. He locked up, then climbed down the steps and walked back to the parking lot. Only then did he got a good look at the damage. The bumper was bent and both tail lights were beyond repair. The right side of the truck had sunken inward with bits of the fire hydrant’s paint smashed into the indent. 

He walked to the driver side, unlocked the car and sat down. He didn’t move for a long second then slammed his fists on the edge of the steering wheel. He hissed sharply as his teeth held the anger and guilt. 

It was his fault, he was sure of that. Maybe he crossed a line that Bane wasn’t happy about or maybe he was just tossing a reminder to show Blake just how fucked he was. And oh God, Mr. Fox… He should’ve noticed it. He should’ve noticed that the scientist was missing. He should have went back for him. He should’ve tried to get himself between the older man and the terrorists. 

_And get Ms. Tate killed in the process? Eliminating all those who had an idea of what they were up against._ His mind berated him. The choice he made was the logical one and also the right one, but that didn’t quell the guilt that raked its claws inside of him. 

He sucked in a sharp breath and forced his hands to unclench. He needed his head to be as clear as possible before he meet with the others. He needed to think. 

He slipped the key into the slot. The truck sluggishly rolled out of the parking lot and back onto the quiet road.

\-----

Dusk approached but didn’t paint the sky with hues of orange and red. Instead, it was gray and dark, matching Gotham’s grim facade. Peeling down the icy roads, a biker in a red helmet rode a matte black motorcycle like a graceful ice skater.

The red biker zipped through and weaved aimlessly before turning into the unfamiliar neighborhood where a stolen old vehicle waited for him. The biker pulled up alongside his companion, turned off the engine and let the bike leaned on the kickstand. He took off the red helmet with a grunt. “Next time, I’ll ride without a helmet.” He remarked, handing it over to the bigger man. 

Bane merely hummed, “How was the ride?”

“Better than the tank,” Barsad replied then looked at the building. He didn’t bother containing his sigh. “I guess we better go up there before she gives us both an earful.”

Bane hummed again then led the way. They infiltrated the building with ease, with just a whisper to their steps. Once inside the domain, they found the princess absently scrutinizing one of the photos that decorated the bookcase. 

“Care to explain what happened today?” The Princess inquired, setting the portrait aside to look at Bane as if Bane was the only other person in the room. 

Bane met her gaze, unfazed by her snappy tone. “The information we found about Captain Jones was concerning.” 

“Did it worry you?” The Princess asked and walked up to Bane. Again, not even acknowledging Barsad in the room. 

“It did.” Bane replied, “And besides, we wouldn’t want Gordon to get ahead of himself. He needed a reminder that Gotham is no longer his city.”

A look of curiosity--the same curiosity that a cat might have toward a mouse--filled those steely blue eyes. “Oh?” She smiled even, “Did you left him a message then?”

Bane didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Barsad could take a hint. He walked passed both of them to snatch the remote from the couch’s arm and flicked on the TV. There was a gasp behind him, but it was not out of horror. You would need to be afraid of something to have that reaction. This gasp was closer to someone being awarded a free car. 

The princess walked past him to get a better look at the TV. Taking up three-fourths of the monitor, was the aerial footage that was taken on Gotham’s remaining bridge. Among the cable lines, Captain Jones and all of his men swayed lifeless in the breeze. 

“Bruce is seeing this, right?” The Princess inquired, turning around to look at them, to look at Bane. “This feed is being wired to him.”

Bane nodded. “Of course. We wouldn’t want him to miss this.” 

The Princess’ smile grew before looking back at the TV screen. “Good.”

“That officer that brought you here, do they plan on returning?” Bane asked. 

“Maybe. Gordon insisted that someone keep watch over me despite what I said.” The Princess huffed. “So it would be unwise for you to linger here for too long.” 

“I’ll have a man stand watch,” Bane replied, with a glance to Barsad. 

Barsad let the curses filled his head. He was doomed to be Bane’s go-to babysitter at this rate. 

“It’s not necessary, my friend.” She replied, finally taking her eyes off of the TV. Her features softened to something human-like. 

“We may have the advantage but one should not lower his guard around someone like Gordon,” Bane replied. 

“You’re right.” She walked over to Bane. She canted her head. "I must ask, the men who chased after me and the officer..." 

"They were taken care of." Bane assured, "Barsad made sure of it." If the impact of the tank didn't kill those men, then the bullet to the head certainly did. 

The Princess placed a hand on one of Bane’s arms. “Thank you, my friend.”

Bane bowed his head for a moment before sharing a look with Barsad. Barsad followed the large man out of the apartment. Once out of earshot, Barsad turned to his brother. “You always seem to give me the most exciting jobs, brother.” He drawled. 

“There is no one else who is more suited for the task than yourself,” Bane replied as he walked to the motorcycle. “You can use the car to your disposal.” 

“How kind of you.” Barsad rested a hand on the driver door. “You might want to steer clear from the churches. After all the noise, I doubt your bird will be coming back to it any time soon.” 

“Then I’ll check the nest then,” Bane replied, sliding on the helmet and climbing onto the motorcycle. “Be on your guard brother.”

“Always,” Barsad said, watching as the engine roared as Bane rode off into the shadows. He sighed to himself and shook his head. “This is so fucking nuts…” He muttered as he got into the car and went in search of a suitable roost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the states! I hope you have a lovely holiday. For those not from the states, I just hope you have a lovely day in general. 
> 
> Again, please enjoy the chapter and feel free to let me know your thoughts. :)
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	22. Wandering Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake noticed the staring and sighed. “I can’t make any promises that the car won’t blow up during the drive.” He said and meant it too.

"...And that's what happened.” Blake said, looking up at the men across him. Patrick looked worried while Gordon gave him a sober look. Foley was shaking his head and already turned away from them. 

“This is nuts,” He growled underneath his breath then made a beeline for the back exit. 

“Foley,” Gordon said, hastily walking after the other man. “Foley, wait!” The commanding tone was on but Foley wasn’t having it. He was out the door by the time Gordon caught up. “Foley--!”

“What?” He whipped around to face Gordon. From what Blake could make out, Foley’s face was red as a tomato and he was shaking. “You heard what he said. You saw the news Gordon--” His words were cut off by the closing door and a jacket covered torso obscured his view completely. 

“Are you ok?” Blake reluctantly looked up to see Patrick’s face. The officer’s worried expression was still there. 

He nodded numbly, lowering his gaze to Patrick’s shoes. “Yeah,” He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He eyed the room absently, taking in the barren surroundings of the backroom of some shop. Empty boxes lined the shelves. Their contents have been raided which meant that the chance of an intruder showing up was slim to none. 

He swallowed down the knot in his throat. “What about you?” He asked, “Was it just as crazy?”

“Luckily, not as crazy as what you went through.” Patrick sighed a little bit. “Our scouts noticed the trucks and alerted us...” He trailed off, his shame colored his face. “I--we should’ve helped or at least warn you but we didn’t know if they were heading to you or some other target. By the time we found out--”

“It was too late.” Blake finished. “If you guys tried to help us, then it will be all over. They would have killed or imprisoned every one of us.” Then everything they had worked for would be wasted. Ross and the other officers would be doomed. The orphanage would be unguarded… “You made the right decision.” 

“But now Mr. Fox is captured, Captain Jones and his team are dead, and we lost any aid from the outside. Bane will be coming down hard on us from here on.” Patrick’s frustration bled into his voice and his waving hands. 

Blake canted his head a little. “Does it make a difference?” He asked softly, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than Patrick. “Bane had been on our asses since the beginning and we made it this far without relying on any outside help.” The only thing that hurt was the fact that they lost Fox. They lost Fox during his watch. 

“But it’s not the same. Things are different now.” Patrick countered and held his gaze. “You know it.” 

He did and the thought made his stomach feel like a pit of wriggling worms. There was a reason why there were only four of them here… “Does anyone know we’re here?” 

“Not that I know of.” Patrick sighed, “Foley is right, this is crazy. We all wear the same uniform. We are supposed to watch each other’s backs. None of this should be happening.”

Except it was happening but not in the way that Patrick could imagine. Things would’ve been so much simpler if reality was black and white, but that wasn’t the world they live in. Their world was gray and nothing but gray. Where good people do bad things because there are no other options. Where a cop wanted nothing more than to save the city he loved and hated but found himself on the end of the terrorist’s leash. 

Blake gritted his teeth. “Patrick--” He started when the sound of footsteps drew their attention forward. 

Gordon marched back to them, looking more tired than before. “At this point, Bane and his men would be watching for any sort of activities. We will resume surveillance tomorrow. Tonight, do not take any risk. Keep your actions to a minimal.” He looked at Blake. “You need to recover.” He then turned to Patrick. “Patrick, I need you to keep watch over Ms. Tate tonight. While I am certain that Blake manages to lose them, we can’t be too careful, especially now.” 

“Of course, Sir.” Patrick nodded. “I’ll drive you back to the safe house.”

“That won’t be necessary, ” Gordon replied then returned his gaze to Blake. “Unless you’re not feeling up for the drive.” 

Blake gave a jerky shake of his head. “No, that’s fine.” He said, while his mind cried out, “Fuck!” 

Gordon nodded then looked at Patrick. “Be safe out there. They probably have patrols posted on every corner by now.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Sir. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Patrick saluted as he made his way toward the back exit. 

Blake climbed to his feet with a wince. “All right, let’s go.” He led the way toward the second exit, where the sad beat-up truck sat and waited. 

Gordon’s eyes lingered on the vehicle a second too long just as he had done before when Blake rolled up to the scene. It was hard not to gape at it. With the way the truck looks, it was a miracle that it was still capable of driving. 

Blake noticed the staring and sighed. “I can’t make any promises that the car won’t blow up during the drive.” He said and meant it too. “If you want, we could probably catch Patrick--”

“That won't be necessary. I trust you, Officer.” Gordon replied and took his seat on the passenger side. Blake let out another sigh before getting behind the wheel and started down the windy path to Gordon’s safe house. He was cautious, scanning every connecting road for a potential threat. Even now he could still hear the thunderous roar from the tank as well as the gunshots--

“Stop beating yourself up.” 

Blake jumped at Gordon’s voice then glanced at the older man. “Sir?” 

“You did what you had to do,” Gordon stated. 

Blake let out a huff. “Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Gordon replied easily. “There will always be occasions where things will never go your way no matter what you do. You just have to make the most of what you got and get through it.” He cast him a sidelong look. “Wasn’t that the gist of what you told Patrick?” 

Blake flushed a little. “Easier said than done.”

“Don’t I know that…” A wry smile spread across the old man’s face.

Blake glanced at the other man then let out a huffy sigh. “So, am I on your radar too?” 

The old man cocked a bushy gray brow at him. “Why do you think that?”

“Because of my horrible but surprisingly lucky streak?” Blake said, “I know that Captain Jones didn’t like me. I am pretty sure I am on a lot of people’s shit list.” Like the Internal Affairs Bureau and Foley to name a few… 

“That’s saying it lightly.” Gordon said, “I do recall of numerous events where you got under the skin both your lead and your fellow officers. It gave Bullock plenty to laugh at.”

“He always did enjoy laughing at my expense…” Blake drawled, remembering all those times rather clearly.

“He also knew that you would prove them wrong.” Gordon replied, “I share his belief.”

A sharp pain shot up from the pit of his stomach as the guilt returned. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I don't need your thanks. I need your head back on this case.” Gordon replied.

“We’re going to proceed with the plan? Despite everything? Aren’t you concerned that we might be compromised?” Blake asked.

“Of course, I am concerned. We need to move cautiously but there is no reason for us to second guess ourselves now. Not when we are so close.” Gordon said. 

“You make it sound like we don’t have our backs to the wall, Sir,” Blake stated.

“Like you told Patrick, the cards haven’t changed that much. At least not for us. Bane, on the other hand, gave us a peek to his cards.” Gordon sounded confident.

Blake furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about, Sir?”

“Bane made it clear that any help from the outside would lead to the detonation of that bomb.” Gordon recounted. “He didn’t pull the trigger even though Captain Jones and his team made it this far.”

“They could be using Captain Jones as a warning shot or maybe the triggerman didn’t want to end it all just yet.” Blake supplied.

“I don’t see Bane as the warning type, do you?” Gordon asked.

“No…” Blake admitted. “That doesn’t mean the triggerman was ready to kill us all.”

“That’s where we differ.” Gordon said, “Even though Bane made a whole spectacle at the stadium about this Gothamite, I don’t think he would give that much power to a citizen. The risk of things not going his way would be too great. I think it's a bluff.” 

It was the sort of bluff that the Joker would play, but Bane? “So, say he is holding the trigger, you think he didn’t kill us all because… He’s waiting for something?” He frowned.

“Maybe.” Gordon said, “Or it didn’t fit his timeline of how things were supposed to unfold. Either way, we might have more time than we initially thought.”

“You mean until the bomb blows up by itself,” Blake stated. “Less than twenty-three days at this point…”

“We will be making the most of it,” Gordon said.

Blake turned into the skinny alley, approaching the current safe house. “You know, Sir, he could be holding back because he hasn’t been able to nab you.”

“Well, they’ll need to double their efforts if they want to capture me.” Gordon retorted with an amused smirk on his face. 

Blake almost smile at that confidence. “Don't jinx us, Sir. That is the last thing we need right now.” 

“Duly noted, Officer.” Gordon stepped out of the vehicle and half turned to him. “Take care out there. We need every available man possible. Keep me posted regarding your partner and the others.”

”Will do, Sir.” Blake said and then rolled out of there quietly before entering the main streets. It will take longer to get to his apartment but he doesn’t plan on stopping by the orphanage. He wouldn’t be visiting the orphanage for the next couple days at this rate, not until things quiet down. The last thing he wanted was for the kids to worry when he rolled up with this half-dead car.

_...Wouldn’t want Bane to come knocking at the door…_ He froze at the thought then grabbed the phone from his pocket.

“Please, not them. Anyone but them.” Blake muttered as he speed dial the priest. “Please…” He pleaded as he listened to the phone. 

Only one ring past before the familiar warm voice came through the speaker. “Blake?” Father Reilly said, sounding a bit tired but it was kind of late. ”Is everything all right?” 

“Y-yeah,” He stuttered a little then cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check on you and the kids. How is everything?”

“As well as one can be during these trying times…” Father Reilly replied honestly. ”Look, Blake, we saw the news…”

Blake felt his heart sank to his stomach. Of course, they saw it. The whole world probably had seen it by now… “Did any of the kids saw it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Father Reilly said. “I and the other volunteers spoke to the kids about it. Patrick also assured us that it wasn’t you on the bridge.”

Blake exhaled noisily. Thank God one of them had the sense to reach out to the orphanage… “Good, ” He turned into the familiar roads. The buildings around him looked older and the “street art” was becoming more common now. 

“Are you heading here? If you are, Susan can meet you at the door. I’m fairly certain that most of the kids are already asleep.” Father Reilly said.

“That will not be necessary, Father,” Blake said quietly. 

“Oh… I see.” Father Reilly said. ”You don’t have to worry about us, Blake. What you and Patrick have been doing is more than enough--”

“I will come by when things settle down.” Blake interjected.”I don’t plan on abandoning you guys.”

“Thank you, Blake.” The tone in Father Reilly’s voice was a stab to the gut. The other man sounded relieved by Blake’s answer as if Blake would leave them behind.

_...Was this their world now?_ Blake wondered. “I have to go, Father.” he said, “I’ll call back at a more reasonable hour.”

“Looking forward to it. Be careful, Blake.” Father Reilly hung up and left Blake to his thoughts.

Gordon was right. They couldn’t give up, not when so many lives are riding on this. Yet, what was stopping Bane from undermining their entire operation? He was the weak link after all. Blake knew, as much as he tried, there was no shaking off his tail. Though, minus threatening posturing, neither men had done anything until today. 

_What change?_ Was Bane becoming bored with whatever this fuck up game was? Does that mean he should be expecting someone waiting at his apartment, ready to put a bullet between his eyes? What about the orphanage? Father Reilly sounded tired but not scared. That didn’t mean that Bane’s men wasn’t heading there right now… 

_But that doesn’t make sense._

_How can you make sense of a madman’s action?_

_When you know you’re not dealing with a madman._

Blake pursed his lips. Despite what Gordon believed, Blake can’t put Bane and the Joker in the same category. Nothing about Bane was anything like the Joker because if he was like that anarchist, then things would be much different. The TV wouldn’t be filled with somber news footage. Instead, the crazed man would show off and humiliate the one-percent in every way imaginable. He would pit Gothamites against another in some elaborate arena. He wouldn’t masquerade this as some twisted version of a revolution.

_Or maybe you are compromised._ His mind chided. _Why are you trying to humanize Gotham’s Reckoning?_

_Because he didn’t kill that thug until Jason looked away. Because he made sure that the orphanage had their share of food and supplies. Because he gave the lost kids a shelter when both orphanage and foster homes abandoned them._ As fucked up as Bane could be, he wasn’t so far over the edge like the Joker was. He still retained some humanity. 

“Or maybe I am going insane,” Blake muttered as he turned another corner and then down the slicked alleyway, stopping just below the fire escape. He killed the engine and sat in the car. The boiling rage he felt before was now just a bare simmer. Exhaustion was seeping into every fiber of his being but his thoughts kept rolling in his head. 

Stringing Jones like that had to be a message but it seemed like a lot of effort to do that. Especially if Bane was just telling him that he was fuck. The big man and his lackey could show up at any time and tell him that personally. Nothing was stopping them. 

_Unless the message wasn’t for him._

Which could be anyone because by now everyone had seen the footage. He wouldn’t be surprised if the news had the scene on repeat and every station. The reporters had to be ravenous for intel considering Bane didn’t give them the show they wanted. Except for the spectacle at the stadium and outside of Blackgate, things were quiet until now. Now, the whole world was probably trying to decipher the message behind his actions...like he was doing now. 

Blake frowned. 

_This is getting nowhere…_ He unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped out of the car and then climbed up the rickety fire escape. 

The message could be for the triggerman. Though unless the triggerman had the same sense of humor as the Joker, it was still kind of an overkill. There was the government but did Bane even saw them as a threat? It could be a show of power or some shit like that. 

_Or maybe whoever he was talking to wasn’t in Gotham._ Blake scoffed. _A long-distance message for god knows who..._ Ridiculous as it was, the more that Blake thought about it, the more things started to click together. 

It would explain why Bane made a spectacle of it because he could’ve done it quietly. Hell, Crane’s court had executed so many but not a whisper reached the small screen. Again, it could be directed toward the government but Bane could have delivered the dead men in the same supply truck that they used in their ruse. The message would have been just as potent. It couldn’t be for the triggerman because the triggerman would need to be nearby if they intended to set off the bomb. So… who was left? Everyone was here or at least close enough to experience it firsthand. 

_Except for Bruce._

_Bruce is dead though..._ His fingertips paused over the window’s icy surface as a thought struck him. 

Bane never said anything about the Batman. Never once did he taunted or paraded how he defeated the masked vigilante. None of his men ever brought it up. Could it be that Bruce was still alive? Did Bane had him holed up somewhere where Bruce can watch as Gotham collapse on itself?

_Ok, now you **are** going crazy._ Blake’s mind inserted. He sighed then pushed up the window with a groan. He climbed into the living room, taking out his flashlight and begun his check. The maps crunched beneath his feet again. One day he’ll get around to cleaning up but right now his mind was becoming desperate and his body was begging for rest. He stepped into his darkened bedroom and flipped on the lights. His eyes lingered on the bed which was currently buried beneath the scattered documents and open manila folders.

“Guess I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight…” He mumbled. He set the flashlight down and fished out some fresh clothes from the closet when he found his attention wandering off to the towel-covered windows. He stared at it long and hard. Before he knew it, he crossed the distance and reached out with his free hand. He sucked in a breath as he braced himself. 

Slowly, he pushed the faux curtain aside and peered out into the gloomy setting. His eyes didn’t wander this time. Instead, they fixated toward the building diagonal from his, to the same window sill where normally a sniper rifle would wait patiently for him. 

Not tonight though. Tonight, the arrogant gunman wasn’t there but Blake knew that the post wasn’t abandoned. It was just too dark to make out who was there.

_Except you do know who it is._ The weight of his name rested over his tongue but didn’t slip past his teeth. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on a stubborn look as he peered at the window before letting the towel fall back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment to this really, really long story. 
> 
> Those from the states, I hope you had a lovely holiday. Everyone else, I hope you had a lovely weekend. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy this segment. 
> 
> \- Tracker_Lucifer


	23. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little bird turned away from the other officer then and headed for that wreck of a truck. It was a surprise that the truck was still mostly intact. 
> 
> _Surprise you haven’t obtained a car for him, Brother._ Barsad thought to himself.

Ever since they strung up those men, there was a change in the atmosphere. The military was beside themselves, unsure of what to do. So, they do nothing. Following their footsteps, were the other Gothamites who barricaded themselves in their homes. The only ones who seemed utterly determined despite everything, were the desperate men that made up the GCPD. 

Barsad watched as the little bird exchanged words with his fellow officer.

Since that day, the Princess gained an extra guard at her doorstep. Gordon must’ve thought that it would be needed. She must be going crazy right about now. Sure, she lived in the city for years already, planting herself as another socialite. There was a freedom to it though, especially under complete anonymity. That anonymity was not helping her now. She must’ve felt like she was being caged against her will. You can’t make contact with your allies if your enemy is at your doorstep.

_Maybe that was intentional._ He absently thought. Gordon was a smart man at times and after their intrusion, it’s only logical for him to suspect a mole. The question was, who did Gordon suspected; his men or the Princess? Whoever it was didn’t matter as long as they kept the old man occupied. 

_Are you sure it doesn’t matter?_ Barsad frowned. Unfortunately, it was not only Gordon’s team that was exhibiting some peculiarities. Bane was more reserved than usual. He even stopped asking him to take over the bird watching duties. 

_But that shouldn’t be a surprise…_ Ever since they crossed paths with the officer, Bane had not been acting like himself. He changed. For better or for worse, Barsad was uncertain. Though one thing for sure, if Bane wasn’t careful then the Princess would notice that her enforcer isn’t acting like himself. 

_How would you react if she confronts you, Brother?_

A whisper of rustling cloth ceased his idle thoughts. He sighed to himself. “Speak of the devil.” Barsad turned his head a little to make out his brother’s broad form. “Your bird isn’t finished talking.”

“He’s probably updating his colleague about their trapped brethren.” Bane said as he took a seat next to him. “Here.” He offered a crinkled brown bag.

Barsad accepted the offer and quickly opened it for its content: some bread, meat, and cheese. “Has the bird been busy?”

“You know he has,” Bane replied. “He isn’t the sort to stay in one place too long.” 

“He kept you busy then?” Barsad teased lightly. “If you want, we could always switch. The Princess hasn’t left this domain since she arrived.”

“Has she been losing her patience?” Bane asked, ignoring the tease. 

“Ever since the other officer prevented her from leaving the premise,” Barsad recalled. “Looks like Gordon insisted that she stay where she is.” 

”And the guards?” Bane inquired.

”Your bird and the cop from the orphanage.” Barsad said with a slight nod to the other officer. ”Though, as you know, your bird isn’t here as often.” 

”He has other duties to attend to.” Bane said. ”So, Gordon has constant eyes on her.”

”Not always.” Barsad broke a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. ”There are occasions when the officer abandons his post. I assumed that he’s meeting with Gordon or at the orphanage.” 

”Predictable?” Bane looked at him.

Barsad shook his head. ”Nothing routine about it.” He chewed on a piece of salted meat.

”How unfortunate.” Bane replied.

”For the Princess? Yes, she is probably not enthused by this arrangement.” Barsad commented. 

”I can imagine…” Bane agreed.

Barsad chewed thoughtfully. ”Do you think it's intentional? This constant watch over the Princess?”

”Perhaps, ” Bane replied. 

”Do you think he suspects his officers? ” Barsad peered down to the two officers. ”Maybe your bird?”.

Bane didn’t reply. Barsad’s eyes shifted from the cops to his brother, whose attention lingered on the little bird.

_You are becoming obvious, Brother._ Barsad internally chided. ”Has your bird decided on a location?”

”He’s been circling Robinson Park.” Bane said, ”Which means he’ll probably target the post in Ackerman.” Which is located miles away from the park, closer toward the bridge.

Barsad reluctantly nodded. As stupid as the bird could be, he has his moments. ”It's a good spot.” He relented. ”A lot of guards but also plenty of hiding places. He does have a knack when it comes to stealth attacks.” 

”Such high praise coming from you.” Bane remarked. The amusement in his voice made Barsad huffed.

”Trust me, it pains me to say that.” Barsad drawled with the dryest tone he could muster. ”I’ll have men stationed at the nearby buildings.”

”Not yet.” The words came in an almost absentminded manner but managed to carry underlining, unwavering command that spoke in such volumes it caught the sniper off guard. 

Barsad resisted the urge to turn to his brother. Instead, he kept his attention on the two cops. ”I see…” He said, “I suppose you’re right. We wouldn’t want to give our position so soon.” His tone was casual as could be. It wasn’t because he was worried that someone could hear them. No, he just doesn’t want to enter that territory. They had other concerns to pay attention to.

Time was ticking after all. 

The little bird turned away from the other officer then and headed for that wreck of a truck. It was a surprise that the truck was still mostly intact. 

_Surprise you haven’t obtained a car for him, Brother._ Barsad thought to himself. “Your bird is ready to fly.” He glanced at Bane. “I’ll continue my watch here.” 

“Thank you,” Bane moved to get up. “Keep me informed of any activity here.” 

“Will do,” Barsad replied, “Though, you know that the Princess will contact you the moment she loses a guard.” 

“I expect as much.” Bane said and already started to make his way toward the exit. “Till then, I expect you to be my eyes in my absence.” 

“Of course, take care brother,” Barsad said and watched him go before he turned his gaze back to the building across from his. He spotted the other officer taking his spot in the concealed vehicle. 

It will only be a matter of time before the Princess decided that she has enough of this. They both knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter for now with some insight to the boys. Again (and every time) I do hope you guys enjoy the story. It is such a long journey. @_@ 
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	24. Fruitless Hypothesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He exhaled softly as he scanned the area with a grimace. Another visit to Robinson Park, a park he would rather not be in. During springtime, the park looked like an overgrown jungle, invoking young creative minds to imaginative adventures. It also provided a substantial cover for drug dealings and hidden niches where one can dump a body without being seen.
> 
> By fall and winter, the park looked more like a haunted forest with barren outstretched branches looking like gnarled, bony hands. He hated coming here but he didn’t want to draw attention toward his intended site.

The pressure grew with every passing day but somehow Blake found himself at ease. It helped that he has a goal and task to focus on because if he didn’t then it would be a different story. 

He exhaled softly as he scanned the area with a grimace. Another visit to Robinson Park, a park he would rather not be in. During springtime, the park looked like an overgrown jungle, invoking young creative minds to imaginative adventures. It also provided a substantial cover for drug dealings and hidden niches where one can dump a body without being seen.

By fall and winter, the park looked more like a haunted forest with barren outstretched branches looking like gnarled, bony hands. He hated coming here but he didn’t want to draw attention toward his intended site. 

Shuffling steps drew his attention away from the empty park to the sewer. He kneeled and passed the message to his partner, ”How are you holding up?”

”As best as we could.” Ross tried to smile but a nasty cough tore past his lips. It sounded awful and wet. It made Blake notice the dark half-circles under Ross’ eyes. ”Hey, earth to Blake.” 

Blake snapped out of it and then looked sheepish under his partner’s scrutinizing gaze. ”Sorry--”

”Stop it.” Ross stated, ”You can’t get distracted now. We only have so much time left.” 

”Two weeks.” Blake replied.

”Yeah, we can’t waste any of that now.” Ross stated. ”How's the investigation?” 

”Up in the air.” Blake said with a heavy sigh. ”If Gordon had any suspicion, well he ain’t talking.”

”Do you think he’s trying to cover things up?” Ross asked.

”I think he doesn’t want us to turn on each other.” Blake suggested. That was the last thing they needed-- ”Fuck, ” he cursed, remembering what Ross had told him. ”Ross-”

Ross shook his head. ”It's a different world down here.” One filled with regret. ”Gordon has a point. We can’t fall apart now.” The officer tried to smile but it never reached his eyes. “Speaking of falling apart, any updates on Foley?”

Blake’s frowned. ”No.” 

The lackluster smile finally fell but at least Ross didn't tried to look surprised. ”I see.” he replied with a heavy sigh. ”Look, you should get going before another guy walks up behind you.” 

”Trying to chase me off already?” Blake scoffed lightly, ”Don’t get yourself killed down there.”

Ross let out a half-hearted laugh. ”I should be telling you that.”

Blake rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet. He turned to look at the unconscious heap on the path and sighed. This area will be watched but that was fine. He wasn’t planning on coming back. He walked over to the body and then dragged it into a bush. Once concealed, he walked deeper into the park, ducking out of the trees’ reaching branches and sidestepping the thorny shrubs before coming up to his waiting vehicle. 

He climbed in and then exited the park, making his way to his apartment. His eyes darted toward the dangling cross and let out another sigh. His shoulders sagged as the thoughts and worry started to build up again. At this point, it would take a miracle to get them out of this mess. The odds were stacked so high against them that it's practically blocking out the sun… 

_We will get through this_ He tried to believe but it was getting harder with every morning that came. It was getting harder to think with the mounting exhaustion taking a toll on him. There was only so much that they could do… _And so many counting on them._

”How did you do this for so long…” he muttered to no one. The Batman seemed to be everywhere at once when he prowled the streets. It was hard to see him as a man but Blake did. He saw the toll too, which made it all the more difficult to believe that he was out there, alive… The chance was slim to none, nevertheless, there was still a chance.

_But not something to ride your hope on._

_Right… Got to focus on the here and now. Not fanciful thoughts of someone in a cape will be coming to their rescue. No, the only thing they had in their arsenal was a group of ordinary, desperate men who were doing everything in their power to save their broken city._

_His eyes darted to the rearview mirror then to the remaining side mirror. His tail was out of sight but then again that wasn’t unusual. Hell, the only time he managed to spot them was when they made themselves known. Lately, that hasn't been the case._

__Probably because it’s not your trigger-happy stalker._ Blake pursed his lips. He suspected that was the case because the sniper doesn’t hide. Bane on the other hand…_

__Because Gotham’s Reckoning has nothing better to do than to follow you around._ The thought was so absurd that he should laugh, except he wasn’t laughing. Somewhere buried in his gut, he believed that absurdity was the reality. Not that Gotham’s Reckoning had time to kill, but that he was following him. What was more troublesome was that he didn’t feel threatened by that thought._

_It could be because he was confident that he hadn’t earned death yet. It could also be that he was so far off the edge that he stopped giving a fuck._

_“If only that was the case…” He mumbled to himself. The sad truth was that he did give a fuck about it. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t be taking the extra precaution of where he goes and what he does. He tried to limit his interactions with Ms. Tate and Patrick but sometimes it was inevitable. Those shifts were brutal. Sleep deprivation ate away his sense of logic and put his paranoia on steroids. Those nights he sat in utter suspense with straining ears and held breath. He expected one of these days he’ll find himself surrounded by Bane’s men and there will be nothing he could do. He would be outnumbered and the most he would be able to do was buy Ms. Tate a few seconds to run. After a night of being on high alert, it leaves your body aching and your mind hazy._

_Though, it wasn’t like he could abandon his duties. As Ross said, they didn’t have that much time left. He needed to be focused._

_They were getting closer in picking out the truck’s route but they were also losing men to the pressure. He doubted that anyone blamed them but goddamn was it frustrating as hell. And Foley, fuck, nobody had seen him since Captain Jones died. Gordon was optimistic that Foley needed some time to clear his head but Blake wasn’t sure if Gordon believed it._

_“Or maybe he does,” Blake said. Someone has to have hope when there’s none around and Gordon could be that person. He was the driving force to the GCPD before there was even a Batman. He was the lone man who turned the GCPD around. Hell, he even got someone like Bullock to listen to him. It shouldn’t be any surprise that it was him that was leading the rebellion. It was why every officer was putting their faith in the old man. It was why he put his faith in him, even if he did lie._

__They will get through this._ He tried to believe as he drove down the familiar empty roads. Once upon of time, these streets would’ve been filled to the brim with noisy cars and pedestrians. Now, it was like he was driving through a cemetery. His city was becoming unrecognizable but familiar at the same time. Was this Bane’s idea of how the city should’ve been? _

__That’s assuming that this is his end goal or was this the triggerman’s idea?_ Oh, his paranoia had been taking him on a fruitless journey. From theories of who triggerman was to why the sniper-stalker hadn’t shot him yet. Fuck, even thought of why Bane would be so interested in him. Of course, that ventured in a direction he really shouldn’t conjure up. It made evenings evening more awkward and frustrating. _

__How many times are you going spin through your theories before you get sick?_ He wasted so many nights on these theories without an answer or a clue if he was even in the right direction. They kept him from sleeping and filled every space of his apartment, leaving him with just the kitchen floor to sleep on. _

_This was getting nowhere fast and he can’t spend it on these pointless thoughts anymore. He needed to be productive and he is always the most productive when he’s doing shit._

_The sad truck rolled back into the alley, parking beneath the fire escape once more. Blake lingered for a moment before dragging himself out of the cabin and begun his climb up the rickety ladder. He pulled his jacket close as the biting wind nipped at every expose skin. He turned and peered out to the somber city. The anger that burned in the pit of his stomach was barely smoldering now thanks to suffocating exhaustion._

_His eyes traveled past the boarded buildings and landed on the one that sat diagonal from his. Where on occasion, he would spot sniper resting his gun on the window sill. Lately, though, a large shadow claimed that space for his own and watched him with eyes that Blake couldn’t see._

_His fingers curled in his jacket as he stared hard at the open window. His delusional mind was already starting to weave an absurd plan that might fit with this reality of theirs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter and hopefully more with the upcoming break. Happy holidays! and I hope you enjoy this tiny chapter. 
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	25. Nightly Excursion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truck was missing.

The truck was missing. 

A frown tugged at his torn lips as he straightened up on his motorcycle. A considerable amount of time had passed but the rattling sound of the broken vehicle had yet to grace his ears. It wasn’t unusual for his little bird to be late. In fact, it was a common occurrence but still… 

There could have been a skirmish. The madman’s kin had grown in number with the passing time. Some even had altercations with his men. They lost, of course, laughing as they took their last breath. His bird might have crossed paths with them but even then, it shouldn’t take the officer _this_ long to shake them off. 

...Unless the officer was hurt. If he was, then he wouldn’t come here. Instead, he would’ve retreated to his own nest before informing the priest of his decision. That way the chicks wouldn’t have to see their savior in such a state.

_That could be it._

Bane turned away from the orphanage, kicked up the stand and revved the engine when a burst of static crackled through the comm. His brows furrowed in confusion. He rested his weight back onto his heels as he removed the helmet and then pressed down on the receiver. 

“I need you, my friend.” The sweet voice filtered through the comm. 

Instinctively, his shoulders tensed up. “Has the guards abandoned their posts?” He inquired lightly, trying to remember whether or not his bird left the scene. He swore he did.

“You don’t need to worry about them,” His princess assured with an unflinching certainty to her voice. “Come back to me. There is much that we need to discuss.”

“...Very well.” He replied before she ended the line. A slow patient breath escaped him as he slid the helmet onto his head. There wasn’t any fluidity to his motions, which was unusual. His grip on the handles was even tighter than they should be, which was also unusual. The only thing that seemed characteristically normal for him, was his mind. His mind was as silent as a grave. 

The engine roared as he sped down the alleys and onto the streets. The icy air nipped at his exposed neck as he weaved through the city like a fleeting shadow. The journey was a little less than half of an hour and yet it felt like days had passed before his eyes landed on the familiar apartment complex. His attention dropped to the streets and alleys, where the frost-covered cars that stood abandoned along the sidewalks. Unfortunately, the cars he was searching for was absent from the group. 

He drove further down, tucking his motorcycle into the shadows and then backtrack his way to the building. He used the fire escape to scale upward and entered through the window of his intended floor. Before him, was a long stretch of a hallway with a line of apartment doors along his left side and lights that hung above his head. His steps were painstakingly quiet and yet booming in these silent halls. He passed by a neighbor’s door and could not help but notice how it wasn’t fully closed. His eyes turned away as his focus returned to his intended target. 

Without missing a beat, he twisted the knob and crossed the threshold into the partner’s apartment. Inside looked undisturbed as the hallway. The only things that seemed out of place were the missing rug from the coffee table and the missing princess. His brows furrowed as he stepped deeper into the apartment. He took off the helmet. “Barsad.” 

“He is currently finishing off a job for me.” The familiar sweet voice drew his attention toward the narrow path that led into the bedroom. 

Talia stepped out into the light with a smile on her face and another man’s jacket over her thin shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice his distraction as she hurried to him and pulled him into a warm hug. “Oh, I have missed you, my friend.” She whispered to him. “It has been too long.”

“It has.” His voice rumbled as he breathed in the familiar sweet scent of her perfume along with the slight tinge of copper. 

She withdrew from him with a feline smile. “It was agonizing to be under their constant scrutiny.”

“You mean you were bored,” Bane chided and the Princess let out a soft laugh. 

“Absolutely,” She agreed. “I am becoming tired of these games. You know, I even thought about leaving a hint for our dear Commissioner just to make it more exciting.”

“You think he doesn’t suspect you?” Bane inquired lightly. 

“I…” The Princess faltered. “I am unsure. I doubt he suspects anything but I am not in the folds of his plans just yet. I am still an outsider looking in, waiting for him to act.” She pouted to herself. “I’m not like his other officers to whom he tells everything.”

“They seek comfort in a familiar face.” Bane said. 

“They do.” She scoffed. “I bet Gordon doesn’t have the slightest idea of how many men and women tried to barter his life to Crane just to save themselves.” She shook her head. “The corruption has spread far and wide to the point where this city cannot be saved. The only thing we could do is end it’s misery. My father knew that the moment he arrived in Gotham.” Her face twisted into an ugly snarl. “And then Bruce interfered…”

“You are right to be impatient.” Bane agreed, snatching back the Princess’s attention. “There isn’t that much time left after all.” 

“We’ll make time.” The Princess insisted. Her gaze sharpened as the wheels started to turn. “Or we make it so where he doesn’t have the luxury to choose who he could trust.” Her head tilted a little. “How many men does Gordon has to his disposal.”

“A little more than a hundred, perhaps,” Bane replied. “Though, not all of them are actively reporting to duties.”

“That doesn’t matter,” She smiled at him, “Let’s bring those numbers down. It doesn’t even have to be by our hands. Arkham’s inhabitants would be more than enthused to knock around a couple of cops. We could even recruit the madman’s gang. You know they would be more than eager to spill a little bit of blood.” Or more. 

Bane slowly shook his head in disagreement. “That would be unnecessary,” 

Talia looked perplexed by him. “Why? Don’t you want Gordon to feel the walls closing all around him?”

“I am sure he does feel it.” He assured. ”And he will continue to feel it as he realizes that their numbers are shrinking. Their fears and deaths will consume him. A task of this magnitude shouldn’t be handed over to a gang of fools. Especially one whose king couldn’t even achieve his own goals.” 

Talia looked thoughtful before nodding in agreement. “I suppose you are right. They might squander the opportunity or worst, get caught. I wouldn’t be surprised if the slightest blood would make them sing like a bird.” She let out an irritated sigh. “Perhaps it is better for us to keep this within the League.” 

Bane nodded. “I will send out the directives once I return to base.”

“Good.” Her mood lifted. “How is our pet doing?”

“He hasn’t tried to kill himself.” Bane recalled, “Though, our eyes and ears had reported that he has been trying to scale the Pit.” 

And just like that, her mood plummetted. “And?” She asked, not bothering to contain her impatience.

“He has been unsuccessful.” Bane soothed her concern. “The death of Captain Jones had pushed him closer to the edge. He’ll break his spine at this rate.”

“Then make sure that the doctor is well equipped. Bruce is not allowed to escape this hell until I granted it. He needs to understand the price he must pay for defying my Father. For defying the League.” She stated, leaving no room for argument. Though, it wasn’t like Bane would argue with her. 

“Of course.” Bane agreed. 

Behind him, the door opened and closed catching both of their attentions. His second in command entered the room with a huff. The sniper looked more weary than usual. Across his vest was a reddish spatter and one of his sidearms appeared to be missing. 

“Is it done?” The Princess abruptly inquired. 

“It is,” Barsad replied but didn’t expand more than that.

The Princess frowned at him for that. “Were you thorough?”

“Of course I was,” Barsad assured, his gaze leveled with hers. “Nobody would suspect a thing unless you point them to it.” He looked down at her jacket. 

The Princess sighed dramatically then shrugged out of the stranger’s jacket. “Dispose of this with the other garbage then.” She held the jacket out to him. 

Barsad’s face was the definition of indifference but Bane knew better. His brother was seething as he took the tragic from the young woman. 

“Of course.” The sniper replied with a deadpanned tone. 

“Is there anything else that we need to discuss?” Bane inquired, disrupting the obvious tension between the two of them.

The harden feature melted from the woman’s face as she turned her attention back to Bane. “No,” She shook her head. “That will be all. Carry on with the plan and make sure that everyone knows of the new order. We wouldn’t want to keep the Commissioner waiting.” 

“Of course,” He gave a slight bow to her before he turned back around and headed for the door. It wasn’t long before his steps were matched by his brother. 

"I’m not done with you, Barsad.” his princess quipped.

The second set of footsteps stopped. Barsad shot him a withering look before retreating to Talia. “Is there something else you need me to do?”

Bane turned away and proceeded to the door as the two continued with their discussion. 

“The neighbors--”

“They had been dealt with, Princess.” 

“I don’t mean the ones on this floor. I am talking about the ones above me.” 

“I am also talking about those as well--” The door’s latch slipped back into place. His rough hand slid off the knob as he walked back down the same hallway. He didn’t bother to stick around. Talia would keep Barsad busy for at least the rest of the evening and into the morning. Hopefully, Barsad contain his annoyance for a few more hours. Bane didn’t want to come back to a scene where he had to choose sides. He had enough to deal with. 

Perhaps that was why he never returned to base. He followed orders and relayed the message to his men. They will be thorough in their hunt. The river will become the GCPD’s cemetery…

_Will your little bird be joining them?... Assuming that he isn’t already with the fishes._

He squeezed the handle, causing the engine to roar as he zipped past the familiar intersections.

Whether his bird lived or died wasn’t up to him. He was just another Gothamite inhabiting this rotten city. The fire will cleanse him as it will for the rest of the city. 

_But that doesn’t sit well with you. It hadn’t sat well with you for a long while now._

He clenched his teeth as he cut a sharp turn and then drove down one of the many connecting alleys. 

It didn’t matter what he thought of the situation. The game had gone on long enough, much longer than he should’ve allowed it. It needed to end. 

_Do you want it to end?_

Bane didn’t answer. 

The motorcycle bounced as it left the sidewalk and onto the barren streets. It was then he noticed the familiar boarded building around him. More precisely, the building ahead of him: his bird’s nest.

Despite reasoning and logic, he scanned the streets for the beat-up truck. He even checked blocks away in case the bird decided to stow the vehicle in a new hiding spot but he found nothing. Not a trace of his little bird anywhere. Though, if his brother was behind it, then there would be no evidence. 

He made a U-turn and headed back to his roost, even though there was no one for him to observe tonight. Tomorrow, when his mind was truly clear of meddlesome thoughts, he will return to his men and reclaimed his post as their lead and as his princess’ enforcer. That is what he will do. 

He left the motorcycle behind and climbed the familiar steps to his floor. He removed the helmet and took a slow breath as he made his way to the door. He reached to knob, stopping short when he noticed the door wasn’t fully closed. His hand rose a little, touching the edge of the doorframe and felt the loose splinters where the latch should’ve been. 

His shoulders straightened as he carefully nudged the door open. Inside was pitch dark without a skint a light to disturb the shadows. Bane’s fingers curled at his sides as he stepped into the familiar apartment. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to make out the familiar shapes of unused furniture. His steps were light and mindful to avoid any creaking boards as he passed the living room and into the narrow hallway. He gazed ahead to the doorless bathroom then turned toward the closed bedroom door. His rough hand wrapped around the knob and pushed it slightly and then stopped. On the other side, something rested against the door. 

His eyes narrowed before pushing it open completely. Empty bottles clattered and chimed as they fell. They rolled next to his feet and startled the figure that was at the window. In the low light of the moon, Bane could make out the young face the officer. 

“I was wondering when you’re going to show up.” Blake scoffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for those who are still reading this. I hope everyone had a lovely and safe holiday. For those that didn't have a holiday, then I hope your day was pleasant one nonetheless. 
> 
> Many thanks to those who continue to read this story. I appreciate that you are willing to spend your time reading this mishmash-neverending-tale. 
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


	26. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one in their right mind would put themselves in these situations unless:
> 
> 1\. They had a death wish,  
> 2\. Suffering from Stockholm syndrome, or  
> 3\. Endured a massive head trauma that knocked all common sense out of them.
> 
> Despite how it looks, he didn’t have a death wish and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome. Head trauma, on the other hand, was plausible...

He instinctively squeezed the baton as he stared at the large man before him. Once again, they were in the shadows with only a scant of light that barely reached the other man. If anything, it added to the foreboding ambiance around them. The floorboards creaked under the man’s enormous weight and sent his heart banging against his ribs like a spooked bird trying to escape its cage. Part of him was hoping that Bane wouldn’t show up. It was probably the same part that filled his head with curses when he climbed up here. No one in their right mind would put themselves in these situations unless:

1\. They had a death wish,  
2\. Suffering from Stockholm syndrome, or  
3\. Endured a massive head trauma that knocked all common sense out of them.

Despite how it looks, he didn’t have a death wish and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome. Head trauma, on the other hand, was plausible...

Blake swallowed thickly. “Busy night?” He managed to ask lightly as if this was an exchange between friends rather than adversaries. 

Bane didn’t reply. He could be surprised or maybe pissed. Blake couldn’t tell, not with the biker helmet still on the man’s head. 

_Was that how you been getting around?_ He wondered absently then forced the thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time for idle musing. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Blake pressed on with a confidence he wasn’t feeling. 

Bane cocked his head and then lifted his hands from his sides. Instantly, Blake rested his thumb over the button, ready to press down for the taser when Bane’s hands went for the helmet instead. 

“Do you think you deserve an answer?” Bane scoffed as he slid the helmet off. 

For some odd reason, Blake was taken aback by the sight of the monstrous-looking mask. He shouldn’t be. He saw the security feed from the stock market heist but still, he expected Bane to be barefaced beneath the biker helmet. 

_Do you ever take that thing off?_ His brows furrowed. _Or maybe you can’t?_

“Well?” The melodic yet mechanical voice chided, snapping Blake out of his thoughts.

“Maybe?” He shrugged dismissively as if he wasn't as stiff as a board. “But that’s your call, isn’t it?” His grip loosened around the baton. His thumb slid away from the button. 

“It is.” Those sharp eyes dropped to his hand. 

Blake followed his line of sight. Slowly, he lifted the baton and made a show of holstering it. “See, nothing to worry about.” He assured. “I won’t be shocking you tonight… Not like I was successful the first time.” 

“You were never a threat,” Bane stated in that matter-of-fact tone of his. 

Blake grimaced as his pride recoiled. “Not to you maybe.” He remarked. “Then again, it’s not like you’re infallible either. With the perception you built for yourself, it’s hard to imagine that a cop managed to escape Gotham’s Reckoning, let alone two. Maybe even more now.” 

Bane’s eyes narrowed at him. “Do you honestly believe that any of you would leave here alive?”

"Yes.” Blake replied and to his amazement, he meant it. 

Something darted in the mercenary’s eyes but disappeared before Blake could interpret it. “You’re only fooling yourself if you believe that.”

“Or maybe you’re not giving us enough credit,” Blake responded then quickly backed up when Bane approached him. 

“Fools.” Bane retorted with a knowing look on his face. “Fools and cowards.”

Blake gritted his teeth in anger at Bane’s remark and his cowardly reaction. “And fighters.” He added, meeting the other man’s gaze. “You know that too. After all, you saw me took down more than a few of your men.” He taunted in which Bane let out a chuckle. 

“You merely defeated the same people you are trying to protect,” Bane replied, “Do you fault them for wanting something more than what this corrupted city was willing to give them?”

“There are other ways to bring change,” Blake said. 

“Yes, and who benefitted from those ‘changes’?” Bane countered. 

Blake didn’t reply. 

“Exactly,” Bane scoffed. “Yet, you and your officers insisted on this resistance. Don’t you see that you’re just giving back the power to the ones who corrupted this city in the first place? The same people who turned Gotham into a cesspool.”

“Stop.” Blake bit out and turned away. At his sides, his hands balled into fists. 

Bane took another step to him. “You know it’s true.”

“Maybe so but your angle is complete horse shit.” Blake met his gaze. He didn’t step back this time. He refused to. “Don’t act as if you’re a liberator when you’re not. I am sure as hell ain’t falling for that con. I know we only have a few days left before that time bomb goes off, which I’m pretty sure you’re not planning to stop it.” 

Bane’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?” He said, “If that’s the case, then why are you here, Officer?” He walked up to Blake, practically towering him like a shadow.

Blake stayed where he was, even if he could feel Bane’s body heat radiated against him. His eyes locked on the other’s face, watching him carefully. “Because I want to know why.” 

Bane narrowed in annoyance. “Maybe I just want to.”

“If you were the Joker,” Blake replied. “Then that would be his answer. That this was all just a show for shits and giggles. That doesn’t fit you though.” 

“You don’t know me,” Bane stated, leaning closer till they were almost nose to nose. The dim light of the moon gave a dull shine to the small metal pipes. 

“I think I know you better than you would like. I don’t think I was wrong to assume that you are the one who planned this whole thing. That you’re the sort that wouldn’t leave things to chance...” His voice wavered a little. That wasn’t entirely true. He still didn’t know how he fit in Bane’s world. 

“Despite what Daggett believed, you’re not a hired gun. You’re smarter than that.” Blake continued, “He was just a means to the bigger plan. A plan that has nothing to do with saving Gotham from the corrupt.” He swallowed hard. “Because when you think about it, it’s kind of hard to pick out one corrupted metropolis from another.” He looked into those harden eyes. “So… how badly did Gotham hurt your triggerman?” 

He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. He knew it wouldn’t be something obvious like a dramatic gasp or a grab by the throat but he had hope for some sort reaction. Any reaction. Instead, he got absolutely nothing. 

_Fuck._

“You’re always so focused on trying to answer the ‘why’ when it doesn’t matter.” Bane said with that annoyingly calm voice of his. “In doing so, you merely wasted the little time you do have.”

“But I still have time,” Blake stated.

Bane looked amused. “You think you’ll escape from here?”

“I haven’t earned my right to die.” Blake reminded. “I’m pretty sure you’re not done playing with me just yet.” 

“But the game is ending though.” Bane retorted. 

“But it hasn’t ended yet.” Blake countered then confidently he walked around Bane for the exit. He refrained from looking back as he crossed the short distance. In his haste, his feet bumped against one of the glass bottles and sent it rolling into the shadowy abyss with a soft clink. 

_Get a hold of yourself!_ He griped then grabbed the knob. 

“You shouldn’t waste any more time on these fruitless visits.” Bane’s voice curled into his ears, sending a shiver down his spine. “Like you shouldn’t waste your time trying to save a dying city.” 

Blake gritted his teeth and turned to face the man. With the light behind the bigger man, it impossible to see his face. “That isn’t up to you.” 

“The city isn’t worth saving and you know you wouldn’t be able to save it no matter how hard you try.” Bane said.

“I would rather die than to stop fighting,”

“Would you rather let _them_ die then?” 

Blake faltered as his mind immediately went to the orphanage. “Never.” 

“Then why don’t you focus on them?” Bane inquired. “Focus on their escape.”

“It seems like you have forgotten that you pretty much have this whole place on lockdown.” Blake snapped. 

“You can take the bridge and leave the city,” Bane suggested. 

“And what? Fall into a trap?” Blake scoffed at that offer. 

“My men will not interfere,” Bane assured. “And you know they wouldn’t disobey my orders.” 

He knew… Blake knew none of _those_ men would act out of line. But still… “Why?”

“Why not? You should consider your options.” Bane advised then turned to peer out of the window. “Whatever you decide on, know that my men will not be the one that stops you.” 

Blake was stunned by the offer. He was so stunned that his mind didn't even know how to even compute it. It was just too much… He twisted the knob and then left the room a tad too quickly. He didn’t realize he took the steps two by two until he nearly tripped on his own feet when he reached the lobby. Only then he noticed that his hands were shaking.

_What the fuck just happened?_

He grabbed his head as a headache started to creep in. He forced himself to take a breath. He needed to think or at least clear his head. He can’t do it here so he walked out of the building and crossed the street for his apartment. Bane will be watching him but fuck it. Let him watch. He needed to think. He needed sleep.

\------

Through the window, Bane watched as his bird crossed the street for the nearby apartment. Hopefully, his little bird would consider his offer… Not that it would save him. His men will not interfere but he cannot speak for the military aid that waited on the remaining bridge. Who knew what they would do.

 _There are other options._

There were other options but at least this had a chance of proving him wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for the new year. Also a heads up, my updates might slow down because of work going to be crazy for this month @_@. Either way, I do intend to keep going with this story. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Tracker_Lucifer


End file.
